


Stay by My Side and Never Let Us Part

by izzyisozaki



Series: Canonverse [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxiety, Anxious Katsuki Yuuri, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Dancing, Dark Humor, Developing Relationship, Drinking, Illustrated, Italian Culture, Italy, M/M, Post-Canon, References to Christian Religion & Lore, Road Trips, Romance, Slow Burn, Song Lyrics, Supportive Victor Nikiforov, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Viktuuri Big Bang 2017, see chapter names for main stops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-11-18 20:44:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 37,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11298492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izzyisozaki/pseuds/izzyisozaki
Summary: Yūri wants to be in figure skating with Viktor forever, but as the chance of competing against him approaches, Yūri gets increasingly anxious. Meanwhile, Viktor does not seem to have a stop button. In attempt to both unwind before Worlds, they go on a road trip together…in Italy.Written from@whatnopictures'spromptfor the Viktuuri Reverse Bang 2017!





	1. Let's Leave Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was not sure that I would be participating in the Viktuuri Reverse Bang because I accessed the claims document very late, but then I saw [@whatnopictures](http://whatnopictures.tumblr.com) open as a first choice and...I could not believe my luck. The [prompt](http://i.imgur.com/9dQoEpL.png) was so great...and the resulting artwork from the collab...no words. You can view the single pieces [here](http://imgur.com/a/sGMtI) or wait for them to appear later on in the story!
> 
> As for Viktor and Yūri, I wanted to write a post-canon story about how their love and skating intertwine (though I imagine the movie will be very different if it covers this time period), while also making a tribute to my fatherland. As a result, this is hands down the longest fanfiction I have ever written... I will be posting all the chapters by August 18.
> 
> This is just a detail, but the translation of "Stammi vicino, non te ne andare" that I used for the title is from [official merchandise](https://twitter.com/TAITO/status/877723569937108992).
> 
> I also want to give a big thank you to [@suppuuri](https://twitter.com/suppuuri) (whose artwork is in this chapter) for helping me with the design of Viktor's SP costume and giving me feedback on parts of the draft.

That year the Russian Championships were in Chelyabinsk, and Yūri was going to watch them from his hotel room in Ōsaka, where the Japanese Championships were taking place. After the Grand Prix Final in Barcelona they had immediately flown to Saint Petersburg, not having much time to spend together before each other’s respective nationals. Viktor was still training Yūri, but the latter wanted to allow him to truly focus on the competition, forcing Viktor to let him go home after less than a week, when nationals were still some days away.

They hugged in bed that night before he left, and despite they would not be able to see each other until the end of the championships, Yūri was determined to demonstrate they could overcome any distance. Viktor had been willing to set aside his own skating career to be by Yūri’s side, so there was nothing he would not do to make being both a coach and competitive figure skater easier on Viktor.

Despite having to watch the the latter’s return via livestreaming, Yūri was thrilled by the prospect of seeing his love on ice again, where he belonged. Viktor was an early riser and had practiced before Yūri joined him at the ice rink, so he honestly had no idea what choreography or music he was going to use to make his official comeback at the Russian Championships. Tomorrow Yūri would be skating his short program as well – the one Viktor had created from a routine that was initially meant for his next season, inspired by a theme Yūri secretly embodied – _Eros_. He knew that seeing Viktor’s short program would give him the boost he needed to skate with everything he had while his coach was not there.

The stream began and he watched Georgi give the best rendition of his short program yet, the pressure high with both the other Yuri and Viktor skating after him. Yūri watched the others skate eagerly, but his anticipation to see Viktor only grew with their stellar performances.

When he could hardly wait anymore, Viktor came onto the screen, his smile radiant as he faced the camera before going on ice. He was wearing a tight unitard, and Yūri’s eyes drank in the galactic design, gems of different shapes adorning the shoulders all the way down to his right hand, the black fabric wrapping delicately around his fingers. The manufacture was minute and delicate, the jewels dotting his body like stars turned comets when he moved. The part covering his left arm and shoulder was semi-transparent, showing the faint hue of skin as Yūri’s eyes rested on the dip of his collarbone, laced in gems. Open clusters of stars came down the front and back, the linings of a nebula in faint strokes of white, purple, and blue behind them, fading into Viktor’s waist. Sparkles shone subtly over the rest of the top, merging elegantly with the background of a distant galaxy one could only see through a telescope.

The high V-neck collar brought out Viktor’s face, which was – he could not lie – even more captivating.

Holding his breath, Yūri watched Viktor skate to the center of the ice rink, his short program about to begin. As soon as the music started he took in a deep breath, feeling almost as nervous as when he would stare down at the ground before a performance. Gradually he relaxed as he got lost in Viktor’s delicate movements and the somber tone of the music, realizing the style was very different from anything he had seen Viktor do before. The way his body moved had always been refined, but now it was like poetry to Yūri, a secret language he could interpret better than anyone, being the rawest glimpses of it a spectacle for his eyes alone.

He had recently understood Viktor’s feelings about skating again thanks to their conversation the night before the Grand Prix Final, the effects of his retirement only making sense to him once the pressure of the competition was gone. It still baffled him that he could be Viktor’s inspiration, let alone be a factor in anyone else’s. But whether he acknowledged it or not did not change that Viktor was not the same as before, and that now he skated with a different sense of purpose.

 **_Questa storia che senso non ha_ **  
**_Svanirà questa notte assieme alle stelle_ **

Maybe this is what his performance concealed, that the contrast between the past and the present was like night and day: the night was still beautiful with the distant light and mystery of stars, but it was also going to end at the first light of dawn.

And without a doubt light and warmth suited Viktor.

Viktor was already in his finishing pose, and Yūri could see the exertion on his face, however momentary before he looked up and smiled at the audience, at whom he knew was watching him. It shook his heart just how much he had missed seeing Viktor under the spotlight, taking his skating to new heights for other skaters to reach.

Even if there were billions of stars like there were people in the world, at that moment Yūri could not really imagine there being another person like Viktor.

Yūri’s interest in the stream ended not long after Viktor exited, prompting him to close his laptop, and lie back on the bed. His mind was flooded with Viktor in the different poses of his short program, igniting him now that he was no longer worried about the final outcome. Viktor had been so gorgeous skating it hurt, and he wondered if his _eros_ could come anywhere close to that.

He imagined those hands sheathed in dark, bejewelled fabric sliding over him, and only a few moments passed before Yūri’s right hand was slipping down his pants, which were too tight for holding back at this point. Viktor’s costume had left little of his shape to the imagination, and with how much Yūri missed him now, everything about latter was enhanced: the shape of his mouth, the texture of his ash blond hair, the lines of his neck and torso under the fabric, the impossible curve of his back when did a layback spin...even the gentle wave of Viktor’s hand made him weak.

No one was better than him.

While he pictured Viktor moving his grip tightened, the latter’s haunting dance giving way to more sensual movements that also involved Yūri’s body. The fantasy swallowed him, the jewels of Viktor’s outfit pressing hotly into his skin. His arms and legs wrapped tightly around that body, wishing it would fuse with his.

The thoughts did not linger on the metaphysical for long, however, and soon the position changed so that Viktor was gripping him from behind, his hands no longer covered in fabric as he began to strongly thrust. It was shameless to imagine Viktor slamming into his body like that after Yūri had just watched him do a beautiful performance, but he did not care; Viktor was the only one who could open him.

Breathing heavily, he was drawing close, yet the lack of Viktor’s gentle voice in his ears suddenly made the thought of coming alone painful, causing his gut to twist. His imagination could not make up for that, let alone Viktor’s touch.

Exasperated, he stopped and went to take a cold shower.

***

After receiving the score for his short program, Yūri’s thoughts immediately turned to the chance of seeing Viktor again, be it on his phone or laptop. Impatient, he scrolled his phone until he received a message, knowing exactly who it was from.

_If we’re both in first place, then I want to stay there._

Yūri pursed his lips, unable to control the smile coming across his face. Takeshi then brought an arm around Yūri’s shoulder, teasing him about how he would have certainly seduced Viktor with his performance. He then wondered what he could reply to get Viktor just as worked up as he was.

_If that’s where I can reach you, then okay._

Yūri’s cheeks burned a little at what he wrote, but immediately sent it anyway.

 

By the time Yūri reached his hotel room it was almost time for Viktor’s free skate to begin, and he all but threw his bag onto the floor while kicking off his shoes and jumping onto the bed. Even if he knew Viktor would be skating last, he still hoped to see a bit of him before.

When he finally tuned in, he could see a view of the ice rink as the speakers began introducing the skaters based on yesterday's performances. Yūri’s heart rejoiced when live footage of Viktor finally came onto the screen, his side turned to the camera, as if he was being filmed in secret.

“Viktor…”

Seeing Viktor as he warmed up in his Russian uniform really gave Yūri a sense of déjà vu, and he found himself wishing he could be there instead of where he was.

He missed him.

Soon Viktor was out of view and he saw the other Yuri, evidently disgruntled about something as he stood by Yakov. Beating Viktor may have seemed feasible considering his results at the Grand Prix Final, but the older skater still had years of experience and momentum to ride on.

There was no way Viktor, still the record holder for best total score, was going to go down so easily, especially now that he was making his comeback.

At the thought Yūri could not help but start feeling nervous again, though there was not a single shred of doubt in him that Viktor was as fit as a fiddle despite a slight decrease in his physical stamina. Hopefully once they were together again he would stop needlessly worrying about the preparation of his _coach_ , who was certainly aware of his own limits.

The free skating finally began, and Yūri found himself at least momentarily distracted from his preoccupation. As time dragged on, he wondered if he should message Viktor before his performance. Taking out his phone, he thought about what he should tell him.

_I can't wait to see your free skate. If you see the Ice Tiger, tell him I hope he does his best too._

It was not long before his phone beeped with the response, and he tapped the message open.

_It's my turn to surprise you! I told him and he just nodded...I hope he's OK?_

Yūri laughed, feeling a bit more relaxed.

The feeling was short-lived, because soon it was Viktor’s turn. This time his hair was not gelled, and fell softly over his face as he entered position, already striking the audience with his beauty. In stark contrast to his short program, the outfit of his free skate was white. The vest, which was embroidered in gold, hung over a loose, relatively transparent fabric that was sewn together with a close-fitting white one. His pants, as white as the ice he skated on, hugged his figure snugly. Even his skates were white, though they had the usual gold blades. Overall, he gave off the light-footed regality of a ballet dancer, which suited his image perfectly.

Yūri’s eyes fell to the gold ring on Viktor’s finger, and his heart began to beat a little faster.

It would have not been reaching to say Viktor looked like a bridegroom, either.

Finally the music started, and he immediately recognized the composition. He had a weakness for items done to classical music, and he knew the piece would get stuck in his head for a while now that he had images of Viktor skating to it.

The transitions into the jumps were exceedingly difficult, and for a moment Yūri almost did not realize Viktor had left the harder ones for the second half, suddenly throwing him into a panic.

He knew Viktor was on another level, but he had also been on a break.

Viktor had taken each element one at a time, making them perfect, but the string he was hanging on still felt so delicate as he glided across the ice for the final sequence.

Yūri held his breath as he saw Viktor twist in the air, almost as if he were watching the jump unfold in slow motion.

When Viktor’s performance drew to an end, it was as if the tension was leaving Yūri’s body, and he could no longer help the tears of joy at how much Viktor had managed to give after taking a break to become his coach. But more than feeling relief, he was amazed that the skater he so deeply loved and admired, despite his ripe age for competitive figure skating, was still surprising the audience, as if he had not yet reached the pinnacle of his career.

**_Se potessi vederti…_ **

 

As soon as the Japanese Nationals came to an end, Yūri took the first flight to join Viktor, who was already training in sight of the European Championships, which were taking place two weeks before Four Continents, where Yūri was set to compete.

Arrived at the airport, he headed impatiently to the exit, where he knew Viktor was waiting for him. After frantically searching the faces of the crowd, he forced himself to relax and wait till Viktor saw him. When he heard the call of his name, he turned around to immediately find himself wrapped in Viktor’s arms.

Letting out a short breath he grabbed Viktor’s trench coat, a few moments passing before he steadied his breathing and lifted his eyes, meeting Viktor’s gaze.

Feeling like a bolt of electricity, a crushing desire to kiss sparked between them, their hearts suddenly exposed and vulnerable.

Doing his best to keep it together as he felt the warmth of Viktor’s breath on his face, he slowly released his hands from Viktor’s jacket as the latter tugged him in the direction of the elevator. Miraculously empty, they nearly tumbled inside, Viktor clicking the button that took downstairs to the parking lot, both eagerly waiting for the doors to shut.

No words could convey what happened next, as Yūri’s wrapped his hands around Viktor’s neck.

 

The next day they spent most of practice doing pair elements, much to Russian Yuri’s chagrin, who was forced to witness their execution during breaks.

“You two need to switch to pair skating already,” Yuri said after looking away from his phone while Viktor went for a drink of water.

“If only the regulations allowed similar pairs to compete!” Viktor confessed regretfully, taking it like a compliment.

Yuri grimaced, not wanting to comment further.

When Viktor skated back to the center of the rink Yūri immediately stretched out his hand, Viktor grasping and placing it on his shoulder as he took the lead. And just like that it was as if their surroundings had faded, leaving them alone to dance on the ice.

 

As the European Championships drew closer, Yūri’s anticipation intensified, the excitement to see Viktor’s new programs with his own eyes coursing through him. The thought was enough to distract him from being nervous about his own upcoming competitions, and for that he was extremely grateful. Viktor was in splendid form, and nothing would keep them from competing with each other at the Grand Prix if he just…

...kept it together.

Panting he gripped the barrier, taking in deep breaths as he willed his mind to relax. He had only been doing figures while waiting for Viktor, yet he was already winded. Finally he heard the door to the ice rink open, and he straightened up to see who it was.

When the figure was close enough he saw it was Yakov, the blue felt hat on his head impossible to mistake. Unsure why he was there at that time of the evening, he greeted the old coach and attempted to continue skating as naturally as possible, this time going over his free skate.

Instinctively knowing the other was watching him, his mind emptied of all other thoughts as he focused on the program elements. After half an hour, Yūri realized that Viktor was not showing up, and that Yakov had come instead. He skated to the rink wall Yakov was sitting behind, wiping his forehead as he slipped off his gloves.

“What are you doing? You might as well go home and rest if you're going to skate like that.”

Yūri nodded, knowing his thoughts had still been getting to him while he practiced.

“Where’s Viktor?”

“Last minute business. He’s being interviewed for a sponsor.”

Yakov then started going into detail about the technical elements of his program, saying he would have to be more than just flawless in that aspect if he wanted to beat Viktor, pointing out that he rarely flubbed any of his moves in the field, let alone his jumps.

“Viktor is not the same skater he was before, as well,” Yakov added emphatically, looking at him with appraisal.

Yūri could not help but agree, having witnessed the metamorphosis himself.

“If you want to take full advantage of your practice time, you need to be mentally stable. Go home and try to unwind.”

Yūri conceded and took off his skates, already exhausted anyway. He opted to grab a shower, so he could just throw himself on the couch once he got home. Thanking and bidding goodnight to Yakov, he headed to the locker rooms, undressing quickly before entering the showers.

After some minutes under the warm water he felt more relaxed, looking forward to see Viktor once he got home from his interview, and maybe talk a bit and…

...be close.

Turning off the water he went and took his towel, drying himself carefully before he went back to the locker room and donned some fresh clothes. His feet felt less beat up than usual, though they looked rather swollen after the hours of training that day.

Waiting till his hair was a bit more dry, he took out his phone to check his messages, expecting that Viktor had texted him during practice.

_Sorry this is last notice, you're probably already practicing. I’m stuck in an interview for a sponsor of the ice rink. Yakov is on his way! V_

_I just got home. I have a surprise for you. Don't sneak off to eat after practice if you want it. I can read your face when you do that. V_

_Makkachin and I are getting cold here without our kotatsu. Come home and warm us up!_

_OK I lied, Makkachin is just fine next to the radiator. I won’t last long though_

Snorting at how the tone of the messages escalated, Yūri quickly slipped on his jacket, tucking his phone into his pocket. After closing his locker and grabbing his backpack, he hurried out into the street, barely feeling the cold as he jogged all the way home.

When he finally made it to the door he paused to catch his breath, eventually reaching to ring the doorbell. When Viktor opened he almost seemed like he was ready to snatch Yūri into his arms, because Yūri managed to dive straight into them once the door shut behind him.

Sometimes he felt so happy he could cry.

 

Later, when they were lying in bed, Viktor brought his hand to Yūri’s chest, asking him how practice went with Yakov. Yūri told Viktor what Yakov had told him about the technical aspects of his skating and how he needed to unwind, omitting the rest about Viktor.

“Umm. He’s right, but my Yūri was just getting warmed up.”

Yūri wanted to believe that, but he always felt bound to fail when his anxiety got like this.

_One can't even tell Viktor’s been on a break. And I’m supposed to win the next World Championships, let alone the Grand Prix?_

“Yūri. Just focus on skating how you love.”

For a moment Yūri did not know in which sense he was supposed to think Viktor meant that, but settled for both of his interpretations.

“But if I can't?” he then replied, his voice barely a whisper.

“It’s always a risk, but it’s worth taking.”

After a few moments Yūri turned on his shoulder to face Viktor, seeing the latter’s eyes were closed. Sliding his fingers over his face, he realized Viktor had fallen asleep, and could not help staring a bit as he took Viktor’s hand and brought it to his cheek, emotions whirling in his chest.

He knew what he had to do.

 

It did not come as a surprise when the night before his short program at the European Championships Viktor held him tight. Before falling asleep, Viktor confessed that he felt more prepared in comparison to previous competitions, despite all the extra engagements he had being Yūri's coach. He wanted to fight to stay on the top more than ever, but only because Yūri was next to him.

Being held tight may have not surprised him, but what Viktor said before he drifted to sleep did.

As if his heart could not beat any faster, Viktor’s lips brushed against his neck, and for a moment he held in his breath, wondering if Viktor was awake. He soon assumed the latter because the touch returned, becoming a press of lips across his nape that was agonizingly soft and slow. Blood rushed to his lower body, but he willed himself to not think about it. After a few minutes the touches ceased, and he felt Viktor’s forehead rest against his back. Yūri wanted to turn around, press his lips to Viktor’s, and lose himself to a body so perfect it seemed sculpted by an artist’s hands. Maybe he could let himself have this. Maybe he could show Viktor how much he wanted him back.

But he was more ambitious than that – he could do more than just take. He could better himself each day, and continue to surprise Viktor, obtaining even the Grand Prix Final gold.

***

After the Four Continents Championships Yūri was exhausted, and just wanted to spend some time off with Viktor before they threw themselves back into training six days a week for the World Championships coming up in March. It would be the first time competing against each other since the Grand Prix Final in Sochi, Russia, and he was determined to not screw up. If he was going to be a five-time World Champion like Viktor, he had to take advantage of the latter’s coaching while he could, ensuring they also got enough rest.

Viktor had been like a wheel always in motion, even after winning gold at the European Championships and coaching Yūri – who also won gold – for Four Continents. At this point Yūri felt like only a vacation would slow Viktor down.

The season had begun on a high note, so he knew it would be hard for them to unwind. During his exhibition skate at the Grand Prix Final he had felt incredibly relaxed, notwithstanding the surprise when Viktor joined him on ice, lifting him off his feet almost immediately. The music of that program was like a part of his being now, and it only made sense for him to want to go somewhere that offered the same soul-stirring grandeur he could get lost in.

 _Italy_.

He sat up on the couch, enlightenment suddenly hitting him. Viktor loved panoramic driving, not to mention grand travels and romantic destinations. Going on a road trip through Italy would be perfect.

When he mentioned his idea of leaving for a road trip to Viktor, the latter was surprised, assuming Yūri would have wanted to stay home after their return from South Korea – at least until the World Championships were over.

“It’s too short notice to take Makkachin, but it’s a nice idea…”

Yūri felt his heart leap for joy, though he was sorry they would have to leave the dog for a week if they went. Viktor reassured him that Makkachin loved his dogsitter immensely due to all the time the two spent together when he was away for competitions. Yūri still regretted it since they had just gotten back from Four Continents, and decided he would make Makkachin a supply of dog-size steamed buns in compensation.

He took out his laptop, wanting to have a good look at a map of Italy as he pondered possible itineraries. He had never been there before, but thanks to his love for dance and music he could say he had a general cultural knowledge of the country, not to mention his previous coach had been Italian. Viktor instead unlocked his phone screen, soon tapping quickly as if he were writing a text.

After Yūri had spent half an hour considering where they should go, Viktor finally spoke.

“We could meet up with Sara and Michele if we flew out to Naples. What do you think?”

“That sounds like a good idea, actually. Sara has always invited us.”

“If we start from Naples, we can just make our way up and take our return flight from Milan.”

“You want to go shopping, don’t you,” Yūri smirked.

“Who, me?” Viktor replied in a fake scandalized voice. “Milan has many wonders! I can get us exclusive tickets to La Scala!”

Yūri’s smirk did not leave his face, but knew that was also true. Not to mention he would be lying if he said Viktor’s free skate last season did not spark his interest in Italian opera.

“Do you know what they're showing?”

Viktor gave a knowing smile. " _[La Traviata](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/La_traviata#Synopsis)_." 1

 

The following day was devoted to packing and training, as they would only be going to two ice rinks – in Rome and Florence respectively – during their one-week vacation. They had arranged to meet Sara and Michele at Naples International Airport, and would rent a car once they arrived in Rome by train. Overwhelmed by the number of amazing places they could visit, with Viktor he barely managed to narrow down their list to five major cities. Yūri had to admit it was a bit much for one week, but Viktor was adamant about getting a sense of the regional variety, however hastily. That evening they dined early, as they would be leaving long before the crack of dawn.

 

On their way to airport they huddled up in the back of the taxi, Yūri barely awake as he leaned into Viktor. They had a seven-hour trip ahead, but there would be a near one-hour interval before their connection to Naples. Viktor had traveled to Italy before, but had never really had the time to enjoy it. He had an array of contacts there, which would help him ensure their time was memorable. For their stay in Rome he had already set up something special…

To say he was excited about this last-minute trip would be an understatement, and he could not help imagining the plethora of things he could do with Yūri.

 

When their flight took off from Saint Petersburg, Viktor was sitting next to him, browsing a guide. It made Yūri happy to see him looking forward to their trip together as much as he was, and he was soon dreaming of waterside strolls, cobblestone paths, and what poses they would take in photographs. He only woke up two hours later, realizing they were holding hands as Viktor dozed off next to him, his face close to his. It was not the first time he had woken up like this, with Viktor at his side, but it felt painfully intimate and reassuring each time. Holding back the urge to press his lips against Viktor’s, he turned his head away and looked outside the window. They would soon be landing in Paris, at Charles de Gaulle Airport.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 The name of this opera can be translated as “The Fallen Woman,” denoting a courtesan


	2. Naples

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The trip begins! Chapter length will have a strong correlation with how well I know the place in the title, haha.
> 
> The Crispinos are canonically from Naples (Napoli), a city on the western coast of Southern Italy.

Sara was waiting at the exit, waving at them excitedly when she caught sight of them.

“ _Benarrivati!_ ”1

She kissed them on both cheeks and led them outside to the parking lot, where Michele was waiting next to the car. He looked a bit less uptight than usual, stretching out his hand to greet Viktor and Yūri with a casual _ciao_ as he moved to open the car trunk.

They placed the luggages in the back of the purple _Fiat Panda_ , quickly getting into the car so they could go have lunch. Viktor and Yuuri sat together in the back seat while Michele sat next to Sara, who was fumbling with her keys.

When they were out of the airport Sara asked them about the plans for their trip, and whether they would still like to go to the beach.

Viktor thought about it for a moment, realizing that though it may not be that cold and the weather was fair, it would be better for them to not risk getting sick.

“Perhaps we could drive along the coast, and have dinner by the seaside later.”

Sara agreed, and began talking about wine tasting.

“The place we’re going after is at the foot of the volcano. Have either of you ever tasted _Lacryma Christi_?” she asked, likely expecting a response from Viktor.

Viktor smirked in amusement, recalling [an American romantic comedy from the fifties](https://m.facebook.com/story.php?story_fbid=1251551194930035&id=641809225904238&_rdr).

“I have.”

“Its grapes only grow on Mount Vesuvius.”

“Oh, speaking of that...when do the ruins close?”

“Pretty early in this season. If we hurry, we can just get in.”

“It would be nice to get a quick look, at least.”

“Everyone knows the ruins of Pompeii, but Herculanum is just the right size for people who can only have time for a short visit. At three we could head there.”

Pleased to hear that, Viktor took out his phone and began typing.

Yūri was staring outside the window, still in a daze that this was all happening. Then he suddenly remembered they were going to eat.

“Are we going to have pizza?”

“ _Come hai fatto a indovinare?_ ”2 Sara asked rhetorically, flashing him a smile in the rear-view mirror.

 

They sat at a table outside a rustic pizzeria restaurant. A waiter brought them menus, and Sara immediately ordered three pizza margheritas and two bottles of sparkling water. They then went to wash their hands, Michele and Sara going later, leaving Viktor and Yūri to talk alone for some minutes.

“Are you tired?”

Viktor had asked him in a voice so soft it felt soothing to Yūri’s ears.

“Just hungry. You?”

“A bit. Though I know something that would energize me...”

“ _Tre pizze margherite!_ ”

The waiter set down three plates of pizza margherita, the colors of its ingredients – mozzarella, tomatoes, and basil – reminiscent of the Italian flag.

As soon as the pizzas arrived Michele and Sara returned, and Viktor immediately asked the waiter to take a picture of them together at the table, to which the waiter happily obliged, probably charmed off their feet by Viktor’s antics, who wanted a photograph with them and the _pizzaiolo_ , too.

When they sat back down, Michele, Sara, and Viktor took their knives and forks in order to cut the pizza. Yūri noticed Michele began eating his with a knife and fork, and then switched to using his hands. He waited for Viktor to finish cutting theirs completely before picking up the slices with his hands as well.

“This...is _pizza_?” Yūri said in amazement after tasting it.

Michele smirked, like he had expected the reaction.

“You might have a hard time eating other varieties after this.”

While he was distracted Viktor took out his phone and snapped a picture, amused by the expression he made as he ate the delicious pizza.

 

“...so it’s a cheese made with buffalo milk.”

Halfway through eating Michele had begun giving gourmet descriptions of mozzarella di bufala, while Viktor and Yūri disputed over who should eat the last piece of the pizza they were splitting.

“You should give me that piece, Yūri,” Viktor said with a thin smile.

He knew this was where pizza had been invented, but he had not expected it to taste _this good_. They may have decided to share one to cut down on the calorie intake, but now he was not feeling all that generous.

“Not in a thousand years,” he replied flatly.

At that Viktor burst out laughing, declaring that Yūri could have it if he did not binge on Italian sweets later. They were not off-season, after all. Upon hearing that Yūri huffed, but agreed.

“You’re in Italy now, so let yourselves live!” Sara said as she began to laugh.

At that both they both smiled, knowing they were.

 

Soon after they headed to the winery, its location more picturesque than Yūri had expected. While Sara and her brother stood at the counter for buying bottles of wine, Viktor and he went for a quick stroll. There were hectares of vineyards and the views were great for taking pictures. As they began to wander away from the main building, they caught sight of what looked like a huge wine barrel. It had no lid, so one could basically walk right into it.

“Look Yūri, you can pose from inside!”

Viktor leaned against the edge of one side, lifting a leg to rest his foot on the other, like he was in the middle of a photoshoot.

Yūri knew he would have to take a photograph of Viktor with the wine barrel, and took out his phone before the latter even had to tell him.

“Now come here and take one with me,” he said as he began to take out his own phone.

Yūri went up to the wine barrel, so huge it was a bit dark inside, and stood next to Viktor. As soon as Viktor’s finger was about to press the button, he felt Viktor’s lips suddenly on his cheek. Blinking and turning to Viktor with a flustered look, he caught Viktor’s mischievous smile before the latter dragged him away from the wine barrel to take more pictures. 

 

After a short but informative visit to the wine cellar they left for the ruins of Herculaneum, just ten minutes away. Yūri already knew the ghastly story behind the town’s destruction, but realized the bodies of its victims had been preserved differently from those in Pompeii, being just skeletons and not plaster casts with their remains.

When they began to head out a quarter to five, Viktor proposed that they go have coffee.

“Forget coffee, we’re going to have _caffè_ ,” Michele declared.

“And then gelato,” added Sara, grinning at them, “and _babà_.”

“Ah, I remember those. Do you think I could get some with vodka?”

Sara giggled. “Maybe, if they haven’t poured liquor on them yet.”

They strolled down the street that led to the station, entering a pastry shop-style bar. Countless pastries and cakes were on display, making Yūri’s mouth water. Viktor spotted the babas, claiming he wanted one with his coffee, along with a slice of pastiera napoletana.

“After this trip you won't be able to lift me, Yūri.”

Yūri rolled his eyes, knowing Viktor hardly ever gained weight.

As they waited at the counter for their coffees they talked about beaches and restaurants, the number of possibilities seeming rather overwhelming.

“Not everything is open out of bathing season, but we can still eat at a nice restaurant with a view over the sea.”

“I think we should drive to Amalfi, even if it takes an hour.”

“I hope neither of you are afraid of heights.” Sara smiled, taking out her phone, which had beeped.

Viktor and Yūri were glad to go with whatever they decided, having known better to not plan anything ahead for their first day. They got their orders and sat at a table, Michele grabbing extra sugar from the holder. Viktor had a pleased look on his face, setting down his phone all too cheerfully. Yūri quietly sipped his coffee, enjoying the creamy texture when he felt Viktor’s hand rest on his leg under the table.

“Yūri,” he said sweetly, “don't you want to a piece of my tart?”

“Ah, yes.” He leaned in to taste it without much thought from Viktor’s fork.

Little did he know that it was going up on Sara’s Instagram, Phichit-style.

 

When they were half way into their drive to Amalfi, Yūri began to notice they were going higher and higher as they drove along the coast.

“I can't believe how fast those coach buses drive along these cliffs…” he observed as he saw one cruise by.

“They’re great drivers, but it’s not a ride for the weak of heart,” Sara explained, “the curves are non-stop and it feels like being on the edge.”

“ _La costiera è bellissima_ ,”3 Michele sighed wistfully.

While Michele was lost in his thoughts, Sara turned on the radio and focused on the road. [Some contemporary music with an 80s-like, electropop beat](https://youtu.be/0H-WHLI8YNg) came on, and Viktor scooted closer to Yūri to look out the window, his arm resting behind his shoulders.

A man with a raspy baritone voice began to sing, and Yūri could feel Viktor’s warmth seeping into him as he looked out to the sea. The song became a duet, and Yūri had to admit he was no longer focusing on the view by the time both singers broke into the lyrics “ _sarà che piove da luglio_.”

Viktor was only a breath away, and in a surge of impulsiveness Yūri tilted his head to the side, stealing a kiss before Viktor could even react. Yūri saw the shock in Viktor’s eyes, and turned back to the window with a smirk, embarrassment only catching up with him once Viktor had leaned over his shoulder, drawing circles on his chest.

Yūri was thankful when Sara announced they would be stopping for a break, because he was losing his mind in the back seat with Viktor, who was becoming more and more touchy-feely as time passed by.

“We’re in Minori, not far from Amalfi. We can take a short walk next to the beach while we eat some ice cream.”

Yūri observed a large square in front of the beach, not swarmed but with a good number of people strolling around. They followed Sara to a bar that served ice cream, the black stone paving of the town running unevenly beneath their feet. After waiting in line, Viktor and Yūri ordered a large cup of ice cream to share, while Michele and Sara ordered small ice cream cones with up to two flavors.

They crossed the asphalted street to reach the open square, and once they stood before the beach, a predictable dispute over ice cream began.

“The _bacio_ 3 is for me, Yūri,” Viktor said, holding the ice cream cup.

“I chose it.”

“Well you ate most of mine!”

With one winsome smile Viktor was subdued, and Yūri finished the rest of the ice cream.

 

It was already dark when they reached Amalfi, the lights reflecting off the buildings and onto the sea as they approached. The town was famous for its lemons, which grew in terraces built across the steep cliffs. Walking leisurely past the cathedral, which cast a yellowy glow, they entered a lively narrow street brimming with shops.

While Sara and Michele went to visit a jewelry store, Viktor and Yūri explored and looked through the windows of souvenir shops. Occasionally they would go off on their own inside them, just to drag the other to look at what they had found later. An example of this was when Yūri took Viktor’s hand, pulling him in the direction of a rack with bags of what looked like hard candy.

“I tried one of these from the shop lady,” he said as he unwrapped the round, yellow candy, popping it into Viktor’s mouth. “They’re delicious.”

Whether it was in surprise or delight – perhaps both – Viktor made a small noise, covering his mouth with his hand.

He had to agree...they were really were delicious.

 

After that Viktor was unable to keep away from Yūri, taking his hand as they left the shop to go catch up with the Crispinos.

Reaching the jewelry store, they saw Sara through the window, looking at watches while Michele tapped the screen of his phone. After grabbing their attention with a wave, the two came out to join them. Noticing Yūri had bags, Sara asked to see what was inside, unfazed by all the lemon-based products.

Everywhere they looked there had been large, bright yellow lemons. Seduced by their fragrance, Yūri bought some to take back home.

“This kind of lemon is prized as one of the best varieties in the world,” Michele pointed out, “especially to make _limoncello_.”

Viktor recalled it being a liquor typical of Southern Italy and one of the most sought after souvenirs of the region, sold everywhere in bottles of all shapes in sizes. He had chosen a large bottle shaped like Italy, and a number of different small ones.

After leaving the bags in the car, they began to walk towards the black sand beach, discussing where to have dinner. Excited to eat fresh seafood, Yūri enquired about the local dishes. By the time they were settled on where to go to eat, they had reached a pier lit by street lamps. Sara and Michele sat on a bench to phone the restaurant while Viktor and Yūri continued along the barrier.

A dark night sky hung around them as the lights from the town shone on the now black coastal waters. They walked steadily in silence before Viktor stopped to look back at the shore, eyes turning to Yūri as he spoke sotto voce.

“The view is stunning.”

Yūri took a few steps closer to Viktor, who was standing near the edge of the pier. Grabbing the bars of the barrier, he looked up at the waning crescent moon as Viktor wrapped his arms around him.

His heart skipped a beat when he felt Viktor’s lips on his neck, his left hand leaving the bar to grasp Viktor’s hair as they became more insistent.

“Ah...Viktor.”

Finding no sign of protest in his words, Viktor became more uninhibited, leaving marks as he sucked on the skin.

“I want you so much, Yūri,” he then said softly against the shell of his ear.

Blushing ten shades of red, he was thankful it was dark as he turned around to face Viktor, burying his face into his neck as he issued a crushing embrace in reply.

 

Sitting at a candlelit table, he took in the view of the coastal town from atop of the restaurant's terrace. Viktor sat across from him, face glowing beautifully as he sipped his wine. The evening had been going on pleasantly, Michele generously pouring them white wine to drink with their appetizers of fresh fish and vegetables. In their talk about food, they began talking about the area, Michele complaining about how many of the restaurants were overpriced. Michele then began relating about how a landslide tore down a restaurant of a town nearby.

“It was situated along the cliff, like a giant limpet. Then one day, part of the cliff broke off, falling onto the restaurant and killing the chef.”

Finding the story rather unsettling, Yūri said he was sorry to hear that.

“Don’t be. That place was a rip-off, anyway,” he concluded.

Regretting having said anything, Yūri turned to Sara who, by the looks of it, had been barely following.

“Is this about Atrani?” she asked after looking up from her phone.

Michele confirmed, and then entirely changed demeanor, asking Viktor and Yūri if they wanted to hear about the origin behind the last name Crispino.

It was strange to see Michele so loose, but Yūri guessed it was the effect of the wine.

Soon their dishes arrived, and with much gusto Yūri began to eat his plate of pasta with seafood. From the corner of his eye he saw Viktor observing him, but by the time he looked up the latter was already busy eating.

After the first course a second one of fish arrived, which Viktor and Yūri shared, this time without a debate over how much each would get, being too busy giving flirty glances to each other under the effect of the wine.

When they were all finished Sara poured Yūri another glass, asking if they would like dessert. He had to admit he was tempted, and before he could ask what they had, Michele declared they could not leave without trying a _delizia al limone_ , making it sound almost like a tease.

Viktor agreed they had to try it, so Sara ordered one for them. Once it came, Yūri understood why Michele had found it so amusing. Evoking a round, delicate breast, the cake was a perfect white dome topped with a dollop of cream, its tip sprinkled with thin strips of lemon rind. Before Yūri could dip in his spoon Viktor snapped a picture, stating he would tag it as _eros_ on Instagram.

When he reached the white lemon cream filling in the center, the taste was so intense he immediately scooped some up for Viktor, bringing the spoon to his mouth. Once Viktor tasted it his eyes closed automatically, humming loudly at how _vkusno_ it was, making Michele burst into a fit of laughter as Sara watched in wicked amusement at how vocal he was.

Viktor was so easy to predict sometimes.

 

They really drank too much that night. Only Sara, the designated driver, was sober once they left the restaurant. Going back down to the beach, Michele started singing songs in Napolitan, asking Sara, who was trying not to laugh too hard, to judge his performance. Not far off Viktor and Yūri were stretched out on the dark beach, making out shamelessly until the sand got too annoying. Initially they had been watching Michele belt out [“Simmo 'e Napule paisà,”](https://youtu.be/HVe6pHT-HTU) but had been unable to keep up with him as he staggered further down the beach.

That was what Yūri remembered, at least.

According to what Sara told Yūri over the phone the next morning, Yūri had pushed Viktor down onto the sand, sat over him, and started fondling his chest, saying it was his fault for impregnating him, to which Viktor replied he would take full responsibility.

She had not witnessed the rest though, because she had to go after her drunk brother.

Yūri’s face was flushed in embarrassment, but he knew it was not as bad as it could have been.

When they were sober enough Sara had dropped them off at a hotel near Naples station, texting Yūri to call her tomorrow morning. Thanking her and her brother for everything, he told her they would see each other soon at Worlds. They had been able to have tons of fun, and what was more, he had been able to remember practically all of it...

Yielding to her advice, he then checked the website of the Italian railways for trains. They had managed to not feel too hungover, and planned taking one to Rome before ten o’clock. After having breakfast at the hotel they took a quick stroll, buying some street food to eat later on the train.

Once they bought their train tickets from the self-service they headed to the platform, waiting for their train to arrive. Unoccupied, Yūri got a good look at Viktor while the latter was focused on his phone, having been in too much of a hurry and hangover to do so earlier. After just one night in Italy Viktor looked almost rejuvenated, his eyes bright and happy.

“Viktor…” With the activities of last night still fresh in his mind, Yūri could not help using a sultry voice with him when they were alone.

Viktor's head rose from his phone immediately, waiting for Yūri to speak.

“In Rome, can we...do what you brought up last night?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 This expression translates to something like “You made it!”
> 
> 2 “How did you guess?”
> 
> 3 “The coastline is very beautiful”
> 
> 4 An Italian ice cream flavor, literally “kiss”


	3. Rome: Day One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _All roads lead to Rome._

They walked down the platform, the train’s coach numbers now appearing on the preview displays.

“Just refresh my memory and I’ll fix it into our schedule, Yūri...”

The train pulled up at the platform, and they boarded their coach once the crowd settled down. They placed their luggages in the space between different seat sections, finding their reserved places. Removing and placing their jackets in the luggage compartment above their seats, they sat down. Yūri fidgeted in his chair without saying anything further, but Viktor prompted him to continue.

“You said we could...go to a Q1 club, or party,” he let out in a low voice, though no one but Viktor was in earshot. Last night, while Michele had been singing his solo on the beach, Viktor had started to dance [a tarantella](https://youtu.be/bhSJ5FaQO4Q), inviting Yūri to join, despite the sand would make their coordination difficult. By the time Yūri tripped over Viktor and brought the latter down onto the sand with him, Viktor said they should go to a Q club sometime, where he could show Yūri all his “contemporary” dance moves.

The last time Yūri got to dance with Viktor in a party setting he had been too drunk to recall anything, so he wanted to go to a club – while remaining relatively sober – at least once during their trip.

“Clubbing? I know just who to ask,” Viktor replied, his eyes musing on Yūri. “As for the Q part...that is more than my element.”

A smile crept to his lips, and he leaned into Viktor’s shoulder.

“Is there...anything else you want to do together, like something we haven’t planned yet?”

Despite his surprise at the question, Viktor broke into a complicit smile, eyes softening as he brushed his thumb across Yūri’s cheek.

“There are a few things, but there's no hurry.”

Yūri did not press any further, taking Viktor’s hand from his face and entwining it in his, their arms pressing together on the armrest as Yūri leaned back into his chair.

“You’re so good to me,” he said finally, his voice almost a whisper.

Viktor was too candid, too wonderful, yet he was right there next to Yūri, who felt his lips pressing urgently to his cheek, to the corner of his mouth, to his own. Yūri swore he did not know how Viktor was real, but he knew so well that he was, the warmth he exuded filling him with a sense of hope even when his mind was a storm.

He would do anything to hold onto him.

 

Their hotel was in the city center, and Yūri was looking through the small windshield of the rented car Viktor was driving in awe. The road was paved entirely in black cobblestones, making the ride a bumpy one as they turned before St. Peter’s Basilica, its lofty dome towering over the square at the end of the street.

“Aren’t we going in the opposite direction of the hotel, Viktor?”

“I wanted to drive you around a bit first. We will be walking mostly after I park the car somewhere.” 

Yūri did not want to come off as impatient, especially with all the beautiful things to see, but he suddenly felt overwhelmed.

“Are you alright, Yūri?”

“Oh. Yes. Of course,” he replied abruptly, almost missing Viktor’s question.

He was riding around the Eternal City in a pink vintage _Fiat 500_ with Viktor. How could he not be alright?

Refusing to let the sensation get to him, he cracked open the window in hope some fresh air would help quell the sick feeling rising in his stomach. It was such a nice view, yet now he could barely focus his eyes as he forced himself to hold as still as possible. Clutching the assist grip of the car door, the minutes dragged on as his vision began to blur, the taste of dread slowly closing his throat.

The car stopped and Yūri could see they had pulled over. Turning to look at Viktor, he realized he could barely breathe. Trying to speak, he felt his chest tighten, aware that he could do nothing to hide the discomfort.

"Yūri. Please tell me what you need," he said softly as he unbuckled his and Yūri’s seat belts.

Exhaling shakily, he could feel his heart beating out of his chest as sheer panic hit him like he was going to fall, the sight of Viktor fading as his hands began to shake. Grabbing Viktor by his pullover, he tried to move closer to him, his head too light for sitting up straight. Bridging the distance between their seats, Viktor held him up, his breath having become short and raspy as he trembled.

“Everything will be okay, Yūri. I’m here with you. Just focus on your breathing.”

Feeling the sting of tears in his eyes, the sound of his heartbeat filled his ears as he struggled to breathe.

“Out...outside.”

Viktor slowly set him back against the leathered seat, gently prompting him to let go of his pullover. Once he did Viktor got out of the car, rushing to Yūri’s side and unlocking the door. Bringing Yūri’s arm around his shoulder he carefully pulled him outside, helping him balance onto his feet before shutting the door. Yūri could hear the sound of rushing water, and across the sidewalk he saw a wall that would have reached the height of his elbows.

Moving his feet in that direction, Viktor helped him walk him there, his hand never leaving Yūri’s side. By the time he was close enough to brace against the wall his head was spinning, and he could barely make out the trees on the other side of the river.

“Yūri...”

He could hear the concern in the other man’s voice as his head hung low. Focusing on his breathing, he tried to remind himself that it was only temporary, that he was not going to suffocate. Once he was able to make out Viktor’s hand next to his, their gold rings glinting in the cool sunlight, he finally felt like he was calming down.

Though his chest still hurt and his breathing remained irregular, he managed to take Viktor’s hand in his, his body beginning to ease up as his heartbeat gradually slowed down.

“I’m...I feel a bit better now.”

A sigh of relief came from Viktor, his hair brushing Yūri’s shoulder.

“I was about to call an ambulance.”

“For me or for you?” he laughed hollowly.

The hand on Yūri’s side tightened, Viktor’s chest pressing lightly against his back.

“I can drive to a locum doctor if…”

Yūri shook his head.

“Just don’t let go of me.”

 

Eventually Viktor locked the car and paid a parking ticket so they could go for a walk, the bridge they were now standing on showing a view of St. Peter’s blue-washed cupola in the distance.

As they reached the other end of the bridge they met the black stanchion, a low-hanging chain linking the two passageways at its ends.

“Oh...are those love locks? There are so many of them.”

There were padlocks of all shapes and sizes in nearly every link of the chain, and much to Viktor’s delight, one was shaped like a heart.

“...even the couple’s initials are inscribed.”

Yūri did not have to ask to know what Viktor was thinking, and tugged his arm teasingly.

“They get removed from public property anyway.”

“And so? The promise remains intact!”

This time Yūri could not help smiling, his romantic streak no less considerable when it came down to it.

“We can promise right now, even without a lock,” he intimated.

Viktor stared back at Yūri, waiting for him to continue.

“We can promise to never part.”

Taking Viktor’s hand, he pulled him back towards the center of the bridge, St. Peter’s dome looming in the ground. When he stopped beside the wall, he slid his thumb over the back of Viktor’s right hand, turning to face him.

“For as long as you want me, I promise...to always stay by your side, Viktor.”

After watching the play of emotion on Viktor’s face, he hugged him, not caring whether it was broad daylight or if people passed by. It only made sense to express his emotions out in the open now.

A few moments passed, and he felt Viktor’s arms wrap around him.

“I’ll always need you,” he heard as the words vibrated in Viktor’s chest.

Incredulous, his legs suddenly felt weak, and he held Viktor tighter. Viktor’s hand then went through in his hair, prompting Yūri to look up.

“...I just hope you’ll always need me,” he concluded.

Yūri felt his countenance crack, his hands fisting Viktor’s pullover as he pressed his face against his chest.

“Don’t say such crazy things,” he choked out, “you have always inspired me.”

“You will surpass me Yūri, it’s only a question of time,” he laughed.

“Stop. No one can take your place, regardless of technical scores. You could coach me for the rest of my life and it still wouldn’t be enough.”

Yūri knew he had really done it that time when Viktor’s lips crashed into his, his mouth making a muffled sound against Viktor’s in surprise. He needed confidence so badly, but such praise did not even make sense to him.

He did not need more time to know that no one in the world would ever be better than Viktor in his eyes. Viktor had taken his heart and moulded it in his shape irreparably, to the point Yūri could not set him apart from his skating, whether Viktor coached him or not.

While Viktor flooded his thoughts they stood there kissing amorously on the bridge, as if it was some chick flick they were starring in, their faces hot and mouths searing until they needed to take a breather.

“I’d say it’s about time for a coffee break,” Viktor offered breathlessly, squeezing Yūri’s cheek as he beamed down at him.

“Decaffeinated for me,” Yūri replied with helpless mirth.

 

They headed to the hotel on foot, deciding that if they wanted coffee, they might as well go to the _caffè_ near there, which was very famous. Its name, Tazza d'Oro, namely “Golden Cup,” was also perfect.

Leaving the car where Viktor had parked it, they slowly rolled their luggages down sidewalks paved in cement, avoiding where possible _sampietrini_ , the bevelled stones of black basalt Rome’s streets were almost infamous for.

When they finally stood before the hotel, on the right side of Piazza della Minerva, Yūri’s jaw dropped at the sight of the five-star plaque.

“This is a luxury hotel. What were you thinking?”

“It’s just one night, Yūri,” he replied, waving off Yūri’s concern, “Plus, the restaurant's rooftop terrace has a great view.”

Resigning to Viktor’s desire for excess, he looked around the area in interest.

“It feels like every corner here is a memory of the past.”

“Being a millenary city, a lot is a mix of old and new. Just look at the Pantheon, over there. It’s a Roman temple turned Catholic church.”

“Yeah...it’s like it never forgets the ancient culture from which it formed. Not to mention the impact that culture had on the world.”

Viktor paused, smiling gently before following Yūri into the hotel. He was already looking forward to more sightseeing after getting some rest and a cup of high-end coffee.

 

The lobby looked like the reinvention of a Roman palace’s interior, its furnishings giving off a sense of contemporary Italian class. The floor was paved in marble, shining below a glass ceiling that peaked over its center. A statue of the Roman goddess Minerva stood in the exedra, looking askance. What he could not believe, however, was [the bedroom](https://web.archive.org/web/20170624163628/http://www.grandhoteldelaminerve.it/suite-stendhal-hotel-5-stelle-lusso-roma.htm), its frescoed ceiling more extravagant than he ever imagined a hotel ceiling could be.

“I can’t believe you got a suite…” he said shaking his head.

“ _Go big or go home_ , Yūri,” Viktor quipped.

Yūri looked around the room, running a hand through his hair as he took it all in. Taking off his glasses, he walked towards the bed.

“Wow. The hot tub could fit three people. And there’s candles,” he heard Viktor say from the bathroom.

Hovering over the luxury pillows spread along the leathered headrest of the king-size bed, Yūri plopped face down onto a fill pillow, quickly falling asleep as Viktor prepared a bath. Half an hour later he was roused by the sound of the bathroom door opening, his eyes catching the sight of Viktor in a white bathrobe. Seeing Yūri was awake he smiled and picked up his phone, quickly checking for messages. He then took the hotel phone, dialing a number.

Yūri got up from the bed, taking off all his clothes sans his boxer briefs to take a quick shower. When he walked into the bathroom he was hit with how roomy it was, the floors, counters, and rim of the bathtub made entirely in marble. Deciding he may as well take advantage of the luxury, he decided to run a bath instead of a shower. Waiting for the tub to fill, he looked in the mirror behind the door and noticed the marks Viktor had left on his neck last night in Naples, blushing at the sudden remembrance of what the latter had murmured into his ear.

He knew he could not keep stalling forever, especially if he did not want to sexually frustrate himself or Viktor, who reciprocated his feelings.

The bath helped him clear his mind, knowing they had a lot to do before he could get caught up in thoughts like that. If anything, maybe one of those nights.

Or even tonight.

Falling into that train of thought again, he turned the handle of the shower, opening the cold water so he could cool himself down.

Being this close to Viktor and not acting on his desires was getting harder with each day.

 

Wrapped in a towel, Yūri came out of the bathroom, hair still wet and face unadorned, and Viktor tried not to stare, he really did. All the things that were on his mind had simply paused once he saw that jet-black hair and those gentle, round eyes scanning the room. Setting down his phone, he waited for Yūri to at least get half-dressed before he tried saying anything.

By the time Yūri slipped into some clean clothes, Viktor stood up from the armchair, trying one of the complimentary chocolates that came with the room, garnering Yūri’s attention as he put on his glasses.

“Ah. Give me one,” he said as he walked over.

Viktor smirked and offered Yūri the one he just bit into, feeling rewarded when the latter threw him a dirty look. His face soon fell, however, when Yūri grabbed his wrist, snatching the chocolate from his fingers with his warm mouth, his teeth grazing Viktor’s skin.

“Hmm...nice. I prefer dark chocolate though,” he concluded as he turned away with a devilish smile, leaving Viktor to fight down a blush as he scrambled to pick up his guidebook and hotel key.

“Otabek...found a club we can go to tonight. He’s friends with one of the house deejays and can get us VIP passes.”

“Oh, really? That’s perfect then,” Yūri replied allusively.

Viktor had no idea what was going on in Yūri’s head right now, but what happened earlier in the car seemed not to be troubling him. He decided that he would ask Yūri if there was anything he wanted to talk about later.

Checking he had everything, Yūri picked up Viktor’s tote bag and swung it over his shoulder. He looked so fresh and neat after the bath that Viktor wanted nothing more than to see Yūri disheveled and panting beneath him, the younger skater’s lithe body arching back against the large bed, allowing Viktor to embrace him and take his mouth, so the first touch of their tongues could sear his mind forever.

Spurred by how detailed his fantasies were getting as he stood there in the gangway, he quickly turned his back to Yūri and opened the door, holding it open so the latter could pass in front of him.

They headed downstairs and walked through the lobby, exiting the Grand Hotel. Stepping out into the square, they immediately came face to face with the Bernini’s _Elephant and Obelisk_.

Making their way to the coffeehouse, they passed the Pantheon and took a right. When they entered they found a long queue, so Yūri went to stand in line while Viktor looked through the kinds of coffee beans they were selling. Eventually Viktor rejoined him and they got their receipts to order their coffee, Viktor making the most conventional choice because there were more [ways of drinking it in Italy](https://web.archive.org/web/20170628225713/http://www.charmingitaly.com/different-types-of-italian-coffee/) than he, however gourmet he was, could even remember the name of.

Sliding their receipt to the barista, he squeezed Yūri’s hand on the counter, feeling they always needed to be in some form of physical contact with one another. Their coffees arrived and he took some brown sugar, waving the packet twice before he ripped it open and poured it into his cup.

“What did you get again, Yūri?”

“Coffee with ginseng.”

At that Viktor nearly spit out his espresso, not believing his ears.

“...Nice choice. I’ll need to get it next time.”

“Yeah, you should.”

Trying not to think about the aphrodisiac properties of ginseng, Viktor finished his coffee, leaving a tip on the counter.

“Do you mind if I go drop these coffee bags at the hotel?”

“Not at all. I’ll wait by the obelisk fountain.”

He left quickly and took out his phone, opening the GPS navigation application to see where the nearest pharmacy was. Maybe he was being overly optimistic, but if anything was going to happen between them that week he wanted to be ready. Finding out there was one straight up the street, and international at that, he headed there in a pique of excitement, his mind flooding with thoughts of him...

His Yūri.

 

Avoiding to be seen by Yūri as he crossed Piazza della Rotonda, Viktor quickly dropped off everything at the hotel, rushing back out to go meet him. Though it did not take more than fifteen minutes, he embraced Yūri as soon as he reached him, hoping he had not been worried.

“Sorry I made you wait!”

“Oh? I was reading the guide till now, don’t worry,” Yūri smiled warmly.

Knowing there were countless things to see in the area, they did their best to follow the itinerary in the guide, eventually heading to Bar Giolitti to try its famous ice cream.

While they walked with their ice cream cones they passed yet another obelisk, this time much larger than the ones near the Pantheon. Like the other two it was inscribed with Egyptian hieroglyphs, reflecting its actual provenance. Despite it no longer fulfilling its gnomonic purpose, a meridian was traced on the pavement in remembrance of the ancient solar clock. After posing to take pictures of their feet together along the line of white stones that lead to the parliament building, they left Piazza Montecitorio to reach one of the city's busiest streets – Via del Corso. There it was full of clothing shops, but Viktor wanted to go further on to an adjacent street, where the boutiques were.

Doing their best to walk arm in arm on the crowded sidewalk, Viktor remembered he wanted to talk to Yūri about earlier, and upon reaching Piazza San Silvestro, he proposed to rest on one of the long stone benches.

As he lifted his left arm to caress the back of Yūri’s neck, the latter leaned into him, resting his head on Viktor’s chest, so he could wrap his arm over Yūri’s shoulder. In utter bliss, he regretted having to touch a sensitive topic.

“Yūri, I wanted to ask you…” he began.

“I know, Viktor,” Yūri cut him off immediately, his hand resting on his chest.

“Oh. Well, in that case, please tell me.” Viktor needed to know exactly what was on Yūri’s mind, even if he already sensed it had to do with skating.

“I don’t think anything caused it outright, though the pressure has been building up...as Worlds approach,” Yūri finally admitted.

“If you're worried about losing face, know that I don’t–”

“I know that. But even if you forgave me for caving in to the pressure, I can’t stop worrying about how it would reflect on…”

Viktor winced, as if it hurt to hear.

“I just...I have something to prove. I’m on the top of my game with you as my coach, and I want everyone to know...how much your skating and coaching mean to me.”

Speechless, he stared down at Yūri, feeling a blush quickly spread across his cheeks as he grappled with words. Deciding he would need more time to formulate a coherent response, he caressed Yūri’s face, his heart racing and chest aching at the same time.

“You have…”

Before Viktor could finish speaking, a bouquet of red and white roses was suddenly in front of his face, held out to him by a South Asian street vendor who smiled quietly.

Unable to keep his composure, Viktor laughed and asked how much they cost, paying the man who then thanked him profusely before taking his leave. He turned back to Yūri, who watched in amusement at how embarrassed Viktor must have looked as he offered him the whole bouquet of roses, and started over.

“Thanks to meeting you, my life changed. Not just because of your skating...”

Yūri’s face was now shielded by his hair and the roses, as if he were smelling their fragrance, so Viktor had no way of reading his face, and simply continued.

“Your own charm, from the very beginning, is what drew me to you. I need you to always remember that.”

A few moments of silence passed, and upon hearing a sniff he instinctively took Yūri's arm, moving the bouquet away from the younger man’s face. The flowers quickly fell into the latter’s lap as his right hand bolted to lift his glasses, his left frantically wiping the tears from his eyes.

Shocked, Viktor set the bouquet up on top of the two-sided bench, scooting closer to Yūri, unsure what to do as his hands came to rest on Yūri’s knees, softly rubbing one with his thumb.

Yūri leaned into him, his head resting on his shoulder, and as they embraced Viktor realized that he had given the right answer.

 

Before dusk drew near, they had made it to the end of the street of where all the high-end brands were, Viktor having entered almost every shop, from Gucci to Dolce & Gabbana. From Piazza di Spagna they climbed the staircase of Trinità dei Monti, popularly known as the Spanish Steps. When they arrived at the top they looked down at the square, the buzz of people around the Barcaccia fountain and the sound of fresh water overflowing into its basin reaching them.

Yūri was carrying a series of bags for Viktor as per usual, face flushed and content as he stood by Viktor’s side, the church of Trinità dei Monti looming behind them.

“Want to take a taxi back to drop off everything?”

“Hmm, no need – from here on foot it doesn’t take more than twenty minutes.”

“Should we take a bus to the Wedding Cake?”

“You mean the Victorian monument?” Yūri laughed. “Well we’re going to the ruins tomorrow, so we’ll pass by there anyway. How about...Piazza Navona? We can walk there after we stop by the hotel; the area is full restaurants too. Before heading back though, we should visit the Trevi Fountain – it’s close by.”

“Isn’t that the fountain from _La dolce vita_? We must absolutely go!”

“Let’s go then,” Yūri replied, giving a smile so bright Viktor swore his heart was going to burst at any moment now.

 

At the fall of dusk they entered the crowded square, their eyes setting on a wondrous monument made mostly out of travertine. Three streets led to Piazza di Trevi, giving name both to the square and fountain that boldly stood there.

They walked down the steps to the fountain and sat on the rim of the basin, looking up at the immense statues erected between the columns of the Palazzo Poli, whose facade formed the backdrop to the majestic fountain. From the central niche a flowing Oceanus rode his shell chariot, led by Tritons preoccupied with taming its seahorses. White lights collocated at the borders the basin shone beneath the water, making it glow. Other lights above water illuminated the statues, carved out of Carrara marble, while ripples cast their reflections across the travertine sea reef beneath them.

“Do you want to throw a coin and come back to Rome, as legend says, Yūri?”

“Yes...”

They both stood up and Viktor took out two coins of one euro, telling Yūri they would throw them over their left shoulder at the count of three.

After they tossed their coins into the water, Viktor reached for his phone to take pictures, pulling Yūri close for a snap of the two of them together to post on Instagram. As soon as they finished a South Asian man casually approached them with a Polaroid camera. Never missing a chance, he nodded at the gentleman and made Yūri put down their bags so they could properly pose together in front of the fountain. They got two pictures, and in one he took Yūri into a close hold, leaning him backwards into a dip.

He could not wait to dance with Yūri.

 

Once they got back to the hotel and recharged a bit, it was out to dinner around Piazza Navona. Being a larger square, equipped with a church and more fountains, it was easy to be transported by the romantic atmosphere. It was relatively dark and not so crowded, so he stuck close to Yūri, inebriated with happiness whenever the latter leaned into his touch.

“Now that I think about it...we need to hurry up and eat so we can change clothes and go get the car,” Yūri reminded him.

“Right. Let’s head down there.”

Finding a small, intimate-feeling restaurant, they ordered a first course and some wine, Viktor telling the waiter they would have the bill immediately after finishing, otherwise it would have just as likely not come without insisting or soliciting the cashier. Italy had a slower pace of living, after all.

Being that they would go dancing tonight and skating tomorrow, they let themselves have some of the heavy Roman cooking, and ordered _rigatoni alla gricia_ and _spaghetti alla carbonara_. After they finished and were on their last glass of wine, Viktor was adamant about flirting with Yūri, who got more flustered as time went by.

“Of all the beautiful things I saw today, your smile was my favorite.”

He saw Yūri’s cheeks turn a deep shade of red, which only prompted him to continue.

“What can I do to keep seeing it?”

“J...Just continue being yourself, Viktor.”

“Oh, with you that’s easy...” he replied, reaching for Yūri’s hand.

The bill arrived and they made their way out, walking swiftly in the direction of the hotel, only stopping to see the archeological area of Largo di Torre Argentina. Gazing down at the temple ruins, Yūri began to read the information on the board to him.

“Oh, Viktor! You know this is where Julius Caesar was assassinated?”

“Wow, show me where.”

“It’s under ground actually. Beneath that street. To think it happened more than two-thousand years ago...”

“Hmm, we could leave the complimentary bouquet of the hotel room on his grave tomorrow.”

“Good idea; it’s the anniversary of his death in some weeks. Maybe we should take the roses to his statue too.”

“Yūri, look at all the cats!”

“Oh, right. There’s a cat shelter over there.”

After counting how many cats they could find, they hurried to the hotel to get ready.

 

Deciding what he would wear to the club, Yūri changed his clothes and began styling his hair, realizing it was best if he just left it down. Putting his glasses back on he reached for his phone and turned to Viktor, who was adjusting his sleeves as he looked back at him.

“Perhaps it safer if you leave your phone here. I won’t leave your side, anyway.”

Agreeing, Yūri pulled out some money from his wallet, tucking it into his pocket with his room key.

Giving himself one last look in the mirror, Viktor threw on a light jacket and folded the passes the hotel reception had printed for them. They went to the door, checking they had everything.

“Oh, bring your ID, just in case,” Viktor then told him.

Yūri scoffed at the idea that he could pass as someone under eighteen, but then again that depended on point-of-view.

When they were ready to leave Viktor took his room key and opened the door, looking at Yūri from head to toe as he passed.

“Like what you see?”

Viktor did not miss the sultry edge to his voice, and did not hesitate to reply.

“Always.”

 

Deciding to take a slightly longer but more picturesque route, they went in the direction they came from earlier, towards where the night movida was.

Crossing Corso Vittorio Emanuele II, they then took Via Baullari, already noticing the increased influx of people. At the end of the street there was a large square, the restaurants and pubs down its sides bustling with people as they strolled past. The square had nearly everything, from a small cinema to an ice cream parlor. They walked its perimeter till they reached a simple-looking fountain, whose upper basin was shaped like a tureen. From there one could get a nice view of the square, so they went behind the fountain and asked a passerby to take a picture of them. Done with that, they approached a statue of a hooded man, which stood on a high pedestal at the center of the square.

“In the guide it said that Campo de’ Fiori is the only square in the old town that doesn’t have a church.”

“I’m sure Giordano Bruno would be happy about that,” Viktor said as he looked up at the brass statue.

“Though he was a friar, you're probably right. After he was charged for heresy and sentenced to the stake...”

“All because of some unorthodox views? I read that he believed in the ‘plurality of worlds.’”

“You mean the existence of life on other planets?” Yūri asked before continuing, “I didn’t know it was called that! That’s no surprise considering he thought the universe was infinite. Though I sure hope it’s not...”

“How so?”

“Because it implicates an infinite number of possible worlds and outcomes, even for oneself...”

“Oh,” he said as he took Yūri’s hand, “I prefer the concept of one destiny, good or bad as it may be.”

Yūri smiled and hummed in agreement, squeezing his hand.

“I also can’t imagine being more fortunate than this,” Viktor concluded.

Speechless, Yūri let himself be led on by Viktor as he gazed in amazement, heat rising to his cheeks. Yūri could not imagine feeling more loved – or Viktor being any more amazing – either.

They left Campo de’ Fiori and continued down Via Baullari, approaching the Palazzo Farnese, an immense palace that gave its name to the square at the end.

“It feels really quiet here despite Campo de’ Fiori is right over there,” Yūri observed, looking behind him.

“Well the palace is home to the French embassy, which wouldn’t welcome much disorder,” Viktor replied as he noted the military police parked at the entry.

Passing between two identical fountains spread far apart from each other, they crossed the immense square and took a narrow street that led to two other squares, one with an oak tree and the other with a palace, divided only by a street that led to Via Giulia, which ran parallel to the Tiber River. Heading down it, they turned left to walk towards Piazza di San Vincenzo Pallotti.

“Via Giulia is an elite shopping street full of antique shops,” Viktor began to explain as they looked back down the street, “The archway was designed by Michelangelo, like parts of the Farnese Palace.”

Yūri’s eyes focused on a structure that seemed draped in ivy before looking back at Viktor.

“Sounds like you’ve been here.”

“Yes...I came for Notte Bianca years ago. They don’t seem to have them anymore, but there are other similar events.”

“Why the name ‘White Night’?”

“Well the term is translated from the French _Nuit Blanche_ , and is used to refer to these nighttime cultural festivals held in winter, mostly across Europe. The name comes from the midnight twilight in Saint Petersburg, actually, but there the festival is held in summer. The concept is similar, anyway. You’ll see.”

The street ended and they waited at the crossing, which was right in front of the bridge they walked over earlier that day. Flashbacks of their kiss filled Yūri’s head, and he felt his hand tingle as Viktor held it. He was not sure where he had found the boldness he displayed earlier, but it helped to think Italians were probably the people least fazed by public displays of affection.

The atmosphere there at night was even more romantic, and a lot more people seemed to be loitering around as they finally crossed and arrived at the center of the bridge.

“It’s really a great view,” Viktor commented as they stopped and leaned over the wall, “especially with the lit-up dome.”

Feeling a surge of happiness at the thought he was there with Viktor, Yūri’s hand moved practically on its own accord, brushing through Viktor’s ash blond hair, eyes lured by the strands of white.

The small tilt of Viktor’s head as their eyes met made his heart clench in his chest for a moment, his hand slowly coming down from behind Viktor’s ear.

“Should we get going?” he then asked softly.

He saw the slight tension in Viktor’s face give way to a smile, as if he wanted to say something yet had changed his mind.

“Hopefully I won’t find a parking ticket.”

 

Thanks to their passes they skipped the long line to enter the club, which was already half full. Leaving their jackets in the coatroom, they took in the dark ambience of the lounge: everything from the furnishings to the decor was gothic in style, a sense of sophistication emitting from the 1800s paintings hanging across the walls. Heading to the bar, Viktor quickly ordered for them, their names already on a drink list.

Yūri sipped his cocktail nervously, feeling eyes peering at them. He was used to Viktor attracting attention, but looked forward to them blending in with the rest of the crowd as the evening unfolded. Viktor’s handsome looks were completed by an exquisite but minimalist taste in clothing, a black button down shirt and slim fit pants being all he needed to turn heads. The clothes clung to his body in all the right places, and Yūri could not help his eyes from wandering as he drank, his inhibitions gradually slipping away.

Eventually the guest deejay was introduced by a voice from the loudspeakers, and the night officially began, laser lights beginning to flash to the rising tempo of electronic dance music. Otabek told them it was a night organized once or twice a month, and that it was normally hard to get into the club proper, especially if you were not on the VIP list.

He could feel Viktor eyeing him as he looked at the ice in his now empty glass, and not before long he followed him to the dancefloor. He could not help smiling at how Viktor drew him in despite it being the least pair-like of music. More than dancing they swayed to the repetitive beat, the drag of Viktor’s fingers down his sides making his emotions run high.

Deciding he needed at least one more drink, he invited Viktor back to the bar, this time waiting in line as the desire to go back to dance rose. Viktor was not drinking any alcohol, and took only a glass of sparkling water.

Once they were back on the floor Viktor's hand came to rest on his neck, closing the distance between them. EDM may have not been Latin dance music, but it was something at least, and after another cocktail it sounded better, especially with Viktor’s body pressing harder against his, guiding their moves.

As far as a it being a Q night, it was not mainstream at all, especially if one considered it was the week of carnival, where Brazilian beats and colored feathers would have normally taken over. The performance art was still transgressive, however, the eerie masks and general lack of clothing certainly catching the eyes of the crowd. Having lost Viktor's attention, Yūri took his chin between his fingers, forcing Viktor look back at him.

"After we dance, I can give you a better show in our bedroom," he whispered against his lips.

Viktor gawked at him, his mouth slightly open. Unable to hide his amusement, Yūri turned his back towards Viktor, pressing his body into the latter, enjoying the sound of Viktor's gasps in his ear as he slowly grinded against him.

"Yūri..." Viktor breathed heavily down his neck.

This was exactly what he wanted, and as the music droned on he noticed Viktor's impatience increase, his soft lips now grazing Yūri’s neck. Viktor's hand came to rest on his hip, the firm grip going straight to his head, prompting him to press back more. Tilting his head to the side, he caught Viktor’s mouth, unable to hold back a soft moan as Viktor’s hand slid under his shirt, softly caressing his stomach.

As if that moment could not be anymore perfect, Viktor’s fingers brushed underneath the hem of his pants, almost prompting Yūri to grab Viktor’s hand and push it further down, where it belonged.

But he was not drunk enough to do something bold like that, no matter how dark and crowded it was.

He would just have to calm down and wait.

Turning back around he decided he could still kiss Viktor, but without rolling his hips against him, like he so badly wanted to do. Then it became darker as the strobe lights blinked rapidly, making Viktor’s face seem even more ethereal in stop-motion. Feeling lightheaded as he craved for more proximity, he halted his movements and leaned against Viktor’s chest, enjoying the texture of the latter’s shirt and the feel of taut muscle underneath. Just when he felt like he was going to get lost in the expanse of Viktor’s chest, he felt Viktor’s arms tighten around him, his hands slowly sliding down his back.

“Want to head back?”

Without a moment’s hesitation he nodded, knowing it must have been past one already.

They got their belonging and made their way out of club, a sense of hurry coming over them. Viktor fumbled with his keys, unlocking the door for Yūri before entering on the other side of the car. Once it turned on Viktor kept his eyes straight ahead, barely glancing at Yūri as he pulled out of the parking lot.

They did not speak much during the drive back, and after Viktor finally parked, he swung open the car door and immediately stepped outside.

“We’re closer to the hotel this time. I’ll go sort out the parking ticket.”

Yūri slowly got out of the car, making sure to lock the door. As soon as Viktor was done they began walking at a good pace, till they finally reached the hotel fifteen or so minutes later.

The tipsiness having by now worn away, all Yūri was left with was the thirst of his long-burning desire, though he was trying not to show it until they reached the bedroom.

Taking out his room key, Yūri looked at Viktor, whose hand was already on the handle.

"Is that invitation still valid?" Viktor let out, his heated gaze searching Yūri’s face for an answer.

Riveting with excitement, Yūri unlocked the door and entered the hotel room, the door closing on its own as Viktor pushed him up against wall, kissing him desperately. Before he could melt into the feel of Viktor’s lips, however, he pushed Viktor back towards the bedroom, making him sit in a large black armchair.

“Now stay there, and don’t move unless I tell you to.”

Enjoying the wide-eyed expression of Viktor, he took off his glasses and began to unbutton his shirt. When it was undone he slowly drew it off his shoulders, letting it fall behind him. The moment his hands came to his belt he saw Viktor shift in the chair, making him wonder for just how long Viktor would be able to keep that straight face. Unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants, he turned around to slip them off, ensuring Viktor got a good view.

Turning back around to face Viktor, he went up to the armchair, putting his hands on the headrest and lowering his body sit to astride Viktor’s legs. He spread his fingers over Viktor’s chest before pressing his lips to Viktor’s for a hot few seconds, and then began unbuttoning Viktor’s shirt. He noticed the upturned crease of the other’s lips, which prompted him to softly kiss up his neck until Viktor made a noise. He could see the other’s hands gripping the armrests, and he wanted to hear Viktor unravel soon.

“Wait, Yūri...I’m not sure if…”

“I’m sober,” he replied as he unbuttoned Viktor’s cuffs and prompted Viktor to lift his arms so Yūri could slip off his shirt.

“Yūri…”

Before Viktor could insist he wrapped his arms around his neck, bringing their chests flush against each other.

“I want you, plain and simple. Just stay still until I tell you.”

He could tell Viktor was more than aroused now, and he slowly got up from the chair, Viktor’s gaze never leaving him. Dragging a hand through his hair he got a good look at Viktor, already savoring what it was going to feel like.

“Spread your legs.”

Viktor complied, a slight blush spreading across his cheeks as Yūri dragged his hands up his thighs, placing one knee between Viktor’s legs and moving Viktor’s arm so he could hook the other over the armrest. Placing Viktor’s hand on his thigh, Yūri grabbed the back of the chair and tilted his head to lick the crook of Viktor’s neck, beginning to suck on the soft skin there.

He felt Viktor’s hand grip his thigh tightly, and took a fist of Viktor’s hair with his left hand, lightly pulling Viktor’s head to the side for more access, his breath catching in his throat when it elicited a small moan from Viktor. He began to suck harder, his mouth moving down Viktor’s neck until he finally stopped at the juncture of his shoulder, dragging his teeth before moving back.

Doing his best to ignore the bulge in Viktor’s pants, he went behind the chair, and began lightly brushing his hands over Viktor’s torso, his thumbs dragging across Viktor’s collarbone before he would dip them down further. When he leaned over the back of the chair he kissed Viktor’s face, drawing circles over his stomach. Viktor’s breathing became more erratic, and Yūri knew he would have to act soon.

Making his way back to the front of the armchair, he dragged his hands down his own chest before lifting his arms and turning around, sliding a hand slowly up his back for Viktor to watch as he backed towards him, swaying as he grasped Viktor’s knees.

Mesmerized, Viktor apparently stopped breathing when Yūri’s backside rubbed against his lap, a moan erupting once Yūri made a swift circle over his erection. Loving that sound and the excitement it brought him, he leaned his back against Viktor's chest and placed his hands in the corners of the chair, beginning to grind up and down Viktor’s clothed erection.

Hearing Viktor gasp his name and pant next to his ear, Yūri’s resolve to not let Viktor touch him yet wavered. A breathy sigh escaped his lips, and he felt Viktor’s cheek brush against his temple as he began rock back into him without bracing as much against the chair.

“It feels so good, you're so good…” Viktor began to tell him.

“T-Touch me!”

As soon as his voice cracked he started wantonly gyrating against Viktor’s groin, feeling the dampness between his thighs as Viktor’s hands ran up his legs, his right hand finally slipping into Yūri’s briefs and wrapping around his erection.

Before he could stop himself he thrusted into Viktor’s hand, moaning as Viktor began to trace his nipple with the other.

“You’re so smooth, Yūri,” he said as he began to stroke with an effect Yūri’s own hand never had, “I want to feel you all around me.”

At his limit, he arched his back and sprawled his legs over the armrests, Viktor beginning to thrust his hips upwards, pumping his fist over Yūri’s erection while his other hand guided Yūri’s movements. The push and pull between them was so frenzied, for a moment Yūri forgot they were clothed and just getting each other off.

Close, he rested his head against the headrest, feeling his mind slip away as Viktor began to tease the tip with his thumb, relishing in just how slick Viktor’s hand was as it effortlessly glided over his length.

“I’m yours...yours.”

Viktor’s breath hitched in his ear, the hand on his hip turning possessive as Viktor thrusted up harder, his voice breaking into a desperate plea.

“Yūri...Yūri.”

With a cry Yūri came in his hand, some of the seminal fluid spurting onto his stomach as the tremors shook his body and Viktor buried his face into his neck.

“You’re mine.”

 

After cleaning up and preparing for bed, they slipped under the covers and continued kissing for a while, knowing that now that they had gotten a taste, there would be no going back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 Because homophobia is not present in _YŪRI!!! on ICE_ , I find terminology as culturally loaded as ours unnecessary. What is considered non-normative is simply known as Q – basically a letter with a parallel meaning to _queer_ , but not the actual word


	4. Rome: Day Two

The next morning Viktor woke up face to face with Yūri, who was still asleep as the sunlight shone from behind the curtains. Rolling onto his back, he rubbed an eye. He had been dreaming they were skating, and waited for it to wear off as reality set in. He then looked back at Yūri, his eyes inevitably dropping lower: Yūri’s pajama shirt was scrunched up and his stomach was showing, the sheet having slipped off when Viktor had moved. 

Overwrought by the remembrance of last night, he jolted out of bed and went to the bathroom, feeling the lust wash over him as he helplessly began to jerk off under the shower.

Yūri was going to drive him insane.

He had never thought that by “performance” Yūri had meant a lap dance, despite imagining the possibility of the latter stripping and flaunting his body.

And what a body.

There had not been music, but he would not have noticed with the way Yūri moved, igniting the flames of a passion he did not know was possible to feel before meeting him. But that was not the only thing. Yūri made him feel desired in his entirety, as well as in ways he had not thought of before, and it excited him beyond his imagination.

Yūri was really like the sunrise, which made the gold around his finger shine and the ice encasing his heart melt.

 

When they had gone to have breakfast Yūri seemed like he was glowing, and Viktor could not bring himself to do anything for a while but stir his coffee lovestruck.

“Viktor, are you okay? You’ve been spacing out,” Yūri commented with a shy smile.

“I feel spectacular. I just can’t stop looking at you.”

He watched as Yūri failed to hold back a smile, and Viktor was dazed again. 

“Then I’ll go get some juice so you can drink your coffee,” he said in an amused tone as he got up, Viktor’s eyes following him.

They were meant visit the ruins that morning and St. Peter’s that afternoon before heading to the ice rink. As soon as they were done eating, Viktor would go get the car and pick Yūri up with the suitcases, and then he would park somewhere around the Circus Maximus. Everything had been planned, yet all he wanted now was Yūri to have his way with him again.

Finally sipping his coffee, he tried to push those thoughts aside as he reached for an empty croissant.

 

Viktor pulled over and Yūri quickly went to put the luggages in the trunk, carrying two bouquets in a bag when he came to the front of the car and opened the door. Putting the bouquets in the back seat, he climbed into the car and buckled his seatbelt, turning and leaning in to give Viktor a peck on the lips.

“You’ll have to look at the road now.”

Viktor stuttered a reply, and after releasing the parking brake, he put his foot down on the accelerator.

This was truly a Roman holiday.

 

After parking the car, they took on the challenge to walk from the Mouth of Truth all the way to the Colosseum, it only taking them an hour despite the frequent stops for pictures and petting cats and occasional detours.

It would have taken a long wait in line to visit the Colosseum, so they settled on exploring the area and taking pictures from outside instead. Seeing a man dressed up as a gladiator, Viktor immediately walked over to him for a picture, also posing alone with the impersonator’s sword. Repressing a laugh, Yūri immediately posted it on Instagram, writing in the comment “the least threatening gladiator I've ever seen.”

Passing the entrance to the Roman Forum, they began the search for Caesar’s tomb, reading various signs on the way. Going down the Via Sacra, Viktor recalled reading a poem of Horace about a man who would not leave the poet alone as he went on his way.

“Maybe I should choreograph a program about a man whose company I enjoy as I go along this street?”

“That sounds oddly specific for a program...” Yūri covered his face, unable to not laugh at Viktor never missing a chance.

“Well, it’s not like _Eros_ wasn’t about how I specifically met you.”

Yūri stopped in his tracts, Viktor barely halting before bumping into him.

“About that…”

Viktor stared at Yūri's back, unable to able to read the tone of his voice.

“I don’t remember anything I said or did, but I’ve always wanted to reach you, somehow. When I finally got to know you more as a person, I could no longer ignore how...I felt. But there's nothing I treasure more...than to be in your company, and to see your smile.”

“Yū...Yūri…”

In a whirlpool of emotions, Viktor tried not to react impulsively as he wrapped his arms loosely around Yūri, resting his forehead on his shoulder. He may have not cared about people seeing them, but their location was like a museum despite being outdoors, so in the end he opted to whisper something in Yūri’s ear instead.

“I want to kiss that GP gold medal soon. And after that...we’ll get married. Actually, the order in which we do it doesn’t matter, because you’re the best thing to come out of that competition for me.”

He did not have to see to know Yūri was flustered, and moments later Yūri grabbed his hand, walking straight ahead without meeting his eyes. Struck by the reaction, Viktor waited till they were in an empty area before moving to face Yūri, who slowly looked up at him. Moving to take off the his glasses, Viktor slid them into his own pocket before proceeding to cradle Yūri’s face.

Meeting his gaze, Yūri then grabbed his shirt, bringing his forehead to his chest.

“I wanted to win before, so badly. Now I want to win even more. I...I’ll show you.”

Viktor wrapped his arms around him, burying his fingers into his hair.

“I’ll never stop watching, Yūri.”

 

Walking down the street that overlooked the ruins, they eventually reached the statue of Julius Caesar, taking pictures and leaving the bouquet of red and white roses as planned. With that Yūri now had both hands free, and he immediately wrapped his arm around Viktor’s waist, the taller man’s arm now coming around his shoulders as they took each other’s right hands, entwining their fingers.

After visiting the Roman Forum they had started walking down the broad street leading to Piazza Venezia, which was overlooked by the Victorian monument, also known as the "Altar of the Fatherland." Symbol of a unified Italy, the monument held the tomb of an unknown soldier, which was built under the statue of goddess Roma, with two eternal flames burning in the braziers at its front.

Walking in the direction of the Capitol, they made their way through the groups of people sauntering along the sidewalk. The weather was truly spring-like, and there was no need for a jacket during the daytime. Hearing the sound of hooves clattering on cobblestones, they watched as a carriage pulled by a large brown horse rolled by. From the bottom of the hill they could see two immense statues of the Dioscuri walking their horses, and standing in front of the graded ramp that led up to Piazza del Campidoglio, where the Capitoline Museums were, they observed two Egyptian lions in black basalt at the end of the railings of the sloping staircase, spouts in their mouths to jet water into the basins at its base.

Since they did not much time, they only went to see the copy of the Capitoline Wolf, which stood on a column next to the Senatorial Palace. Seeing there was a secluded area with trees with a view of the Roman Forum, they sat down for a few minutes, talking about what they would go over when they went to the ice rink later. Alone, Viktor rested a hand on Yūri’s knee, animated as always by the constant desire to touch him.

Since lunchtime was approaching and they had to get to the car, they headed quickly down the hill, taking Via del Teatro di Marcello. Spotting a very gourmet supermarket, they headed in to buy something for a quick meal. When they exited Yūri was carrying both a large bottle of San Pellegrino water and his choice of tramezzino sandwich as Viktor followed him, already biting into his.

Walking down the street, they met an open gate that led down to the area of the Theater of Marcellus, the remains of the Temple of Apollo towering across from it. The pavement descended onto a dirt path, leading to the Porticus Octaviae. Without entering they went to the wall along the sidewalk, sitting down to eat and enjoy the view. Finding it pretty tasty for refrigerated food, Yūri finished his and took a bite of Viktor’s sandwich while the other, distracted, was looking up at the three remaining Corinthian columns of the Temple. Viktor noticed and turned his head as if to protest, but pecked him on the lips instead, making Yūri almost cough the food he had taken, making Viktor laugh and hand him the bottle of water.

“My dog was already a food thief, and now I’m going to marry one.”

Wiping his mouth and blushing furiously, he moved to pull out his phone so he could take a picture of Viktor with the monuments in the background. His hands on the wall and his legs crossed, Viktor cocked his head and smiled at Yūri.

He was so in love.

 

Driving along the river, Viktor asked if Yūri wanted to climb up to the top of St. Peter’s before they visited the Basilica, saying it was a lot of stairs, but they would get an amazing view of the city. Finding that it would be a good warm up as well as interesting, Yūri said yes.

Arriving at a parking lot, Viktor got out to take care of the fee while Yūri took the guide and locked the doors. Knowing they would climb the dome, Yūri brought along a water bottle, imagining there were plenty of fountains in the square to fill it up.

As expected they found a long line to get in, but eventually they passed the metal detectors and headed towards the entrance. Impressed by the marble floor of the long portico, they then came to face with the church’s five portals, three of which were framed by huge antique columns. The central one, known as the Holy Door, remained closed, being reserved only to jubilees.

Yūri entered and was immediately astonished by the Basilica's design: nearly every space was lavishly decorated, giving off the impression of classic yet unpretentious beauty. He looked at the coffered arched ceiling of the nave until they stood before Bernini’s bronze baldachin, in the crossing just beneath the ribbed dome, the wall supporting it an alternation of double columns and gabled windows that rested on a circular base supported by four pendentives. Once he finished gazing at the dove inside the dome’s lantern, his eyes followed the rest of the arched ceiling until it terminated at the apse, which was dominated by the Altar of the Chair, also Bernini’s work. Fit for a sovereign, angels and putti surmounted a bronze chair positioned a meter from the bottom of the alcove in the wall. Directly above it golden light was shining through a tinted window, as though it was being emitted by the dove depicted at its center.

“Do you still want to climb up the dome before it closes, Yūri?”

As if suddenly remembering he was with the best person in the world as he stood in the largest church in the world, he hummed a yes and took Viktor’s arm, heart overflowing with gratitude.

 

By the time they reached the top they were sweating, having low-key decided they would race each other up the stairs. Unsure who even won, Yūri sipped his water bottle and handed it to Viktor, who took a sip before gazing at the view.

“What a magnificent vista! And it’s refreshing up here after all those stairs…”

Looking down below, they could see the roof of the Basilica, as well as the square and the street that led to it.

After Viktor took out his phone to take a picture of them together, Viktor checked the guide for what they should go to next.

“You know, we’re lucky the Sistine Chapel is open – normally it’s closed on Sunday and you have to pay the entrance fee.”

“Oh, nice. It would have been weird to come all the way here and not see it.”

“One can enter only till four though, so after taking a look at Michelangelo’s _Pietà_ we’ll go.”

Yūri was good with anything Viktor felt like doing, every monument and artwork they saw together as magnificent as the preceding, passing by in a flow of vivid colors and elegant shapes before his eyes.

 

By the time they reached the ice rink after all the sightseeing, he could tell Viktor was taking it easy as they went over choreography and dodged less experienced skaters. They planned to spend four hours there before heading to dinner, and he was going to use every good minute of it. Into the second half he began to focus more on his jumps, feeling a twinge of excitement whenever he practiced his quads in front of Viktor, who always assessed his technique whether or not he was in the middle of his own practice.

When he began to get tired he noticed Viktor practicing with more vigor, as if the latter had been less focused on his own practice before. Eventually Yūri leaned back against the barrier to watch, caught up in the twists and turns of Viktor’s body as he marked the ice with his gold blades.

Yūri wondered just how much they must have changed since they began living and training together. Growing up he had wished to emulate Viktor in so many ways, finding a source of motivation that complemented his will to excel in what he loved. Even when everything he had worked for seemed to come apart around him, he could still could not give up reaching Viktor, practicing the latter’s free skate until it became like a part of himself. Sometimes it shocked him just how much he had strived with that objective – to skate on the same ice as Viktor – in mind.

But after getting to know the other man, he could hardly be shocked. Viktor not only kept Yūri at the edge of seat with his skating, but his mannerisms filled him with endless fascination too. How Viktor, a model of strength and certainty, could collapse with a touch on the whorl of his hair, or not know what to do at the sight of tears. How he now went the extra mile to learn and experience new things. Of course there was more, from his bow-like smile to the way his gaze both inebriated Yūri and anchored him to reality. There was nothing Viktor could not ignite, be it his confidence, skin, or heart. He just could not imagine being separated from Viktor without feeling a scorching thirst.

The man he was looking at so intently then skated up to him, stealing a kiss before moving to exit the rink and take off his skates.

“We should probably get going – we’ll skate more tomorrow night.”

They left IceVillage around 9 p.m. once they cooled down and changed their clothes. Not wanting to arrive at the hotel in Florence too late, they settled on having _pizza al taglio_ and then took one last stroll, this time in the quarter of Trastevere, famous for its local charm and winding alleyways. After drinking a beer at a small pub, Viktor proposed to go to the top of the hill to see a night view of the city, where “Il Fontanone” also stood. They went up a dark, cobblestoned street until reaching the steep slope of the hill, paved in asphalt up until the edge of a staircase.

Hand in hand, they reached the the top of the stairs when the sound of pouring water filled their ears: a “large fountain” indeed came into view, the artificial light it was bathed in setting the white marble and pale blue water in stark contrast with the night. Combined the terrace with the city view, it a made a very romantic spot, also because close to no one seemed to be around.

They leaned against the stone barrier, looking out into the night as the lights lit up various monuments in the distance and streets below. Yūri stole a glance at Viktor, who had a keen look on his face, as if he was thinking about something serious. Yūri scooted closer, and as if it were automatic, Viktor's right arm came around his back, his hand gently squeezing his shoulder. 

He wondered if he would ever get used to the idea Viktor was within his reach.

 

They began to head back down, and while the area attracted crowds, various streets were quiet and empty, filled only by the gentle sound of Viktor’s voice. He had begun talking about how Yakov had focused a lot less on how he delivered his performances than the technical aspects, when before it was the contrary.

“He says I skate less like I’m choreographed now.”

Viktor’s skating was different, but he could not say Viktor had not been perfectly adept at entering a part before, conveying a certain emotion while performing.

“I’ve always loved how you seem like a different person in each program you skate. It’s just the best when it’s truly you.”

Viktor brushed his hand behind his head, stopping under the light of a door as Yūri turned to face him.

“Why did you choose, of all my programs, _Stammi vicino_?”

Yūri could feel a lump rise in his throat as Viktor stared at him intently.

“It...resonated with me.”

“And?”

He knew the answer was probably obvious to everyone now, after his rendition of the program went viral and using it for his exhibition skate, but it did not make it any easier to say. In fact, maybe it had not been that clear even to himself at the time, considering how depressed he had been, all too aware of the distance between them as his confidence dwindled and his loneliness spiked. He had always admired Viktor, and any insider could have probably noticed that through his skating, but only he knew what Viktor’s presence really meant to him.

“I...” His cheeks burned, and his tongue was really not collaborating.

Viktor smiled gently, squeezing his shoulder.

“It’s alright. You don’t have to tell me. I was just wondering if I understood correctly.”

“Viktor...”

He knew he could just spit it out, but it would not feel right. He...he needed to properly explain. Skating had done a good job at showing everything he felt, but he knew how much opening up, when done right, could benefit a relationship. He had learned that thanks to Viktor.

“I know we hadn’t really spoken, and that I could barely look you in the face until I got wasted on champagne.”

Viktor brushed his thumb across his cheek, smile broadening as he went on.

“It will sound ridiculous, yet I couldn't help feeling gratitude at having you as my role model. You were...inspiring, and seeing you on ice would...uh, transport me. Somehow...my desire to reach you never subsided. It kept giving me strength to continue, no matter how down I was...and for that, although it was self-centered...”

He paused for a moment, forcing himself to return Viktor’s gaze, knowing it would not be right to hold anything back. Viktor had dropped everything to coach him, and he could at least tell the truth to his face at this stage of their relationship.

“...I loved you.”

He could see the quiver of Viktor’s lip as the confession reached his ears, and for a moment the silence felt like an eternity until Viktor pulled him close, tilting him backwards and rubbing their faces together. A gasp escaped his mouth, a desire to kiss violently coursing through him as Viktor moved back to look him in the eyes again.

“Thank you...thank you for telling me.”

They say Rome is the true city for lovers, and as they embraced brimming with emotion in that narrow, dimly-lit cobblestoned street, Yūri could not help but agree.


	5. Florence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a number of reasons I was unable to post everything by the established date and therefore contacted the organizer for an extension. Sorry for the delay!

After a three-hour drive they finally arrived in Florence. Parked not far from the hotel, Yūri could now feel the tension bleeding out from him as he shut the GPS navigator application on Viktor’s phone. They had talked about innumerable things – figure skating, traveling, poodles…gone over their itinerary so that they were ready for tomorrow, listened to music…

It was difficult to comprehend, but his love for Viktor grew everyday. When Viktor was not around, it was as if Yūri needed him like he needed air. Right now, even with the man sitting across from him, smiling as he unfastened his seatbelt, it felt the same.

When Viktor's hand reached for his face, he was drawn like a magnet, sealing the unspoken words with his mouth, which melted against Viktor’s lips with a sigh. Was it possible to have it this good? He remembered that night before his short program in Barcelona. Somehow that gold medal came to represent everything he could lose, despite he had the unconditional love of his friends, family...and Viktor. In his mind everything relied on succeeding. He needed to win, also to prove Viktor had not wasted his time.

_Now that I know what love is and am stronger for it, I'll prove it to myself with a Grand Prix Final gold medal!_

Gold or not, and despite how he felt, he could not bring Viktor to sacrifice his last years as a competitive figure skater to focus solely on coaching him. If Yūri could end his career with a smile on his face, then he wanted the same for Viktor.

Viktor, the first person he ever wanted to bind himself to.

The man he was kissing now.

It made him dizzy.

Their eyes met as their lips parted, leading to one of those fierce embraces he would never tire of having. He was in Viktor's arms, whole.

 

Once they got to the room they took turns showering and slipped into bed, Viktor languidly pulling him close. He could not help from breathing Viktor in as the latter’s hands caressed his back and played with his dark, rebellious hair. The soft warm skin of Viktor's chest slid against his fingers like silk, bringing him to fondle the flesh there, until he eventually stopped and turned around to lie on his left shoulder, still wrapped in Viktor’s arms. His heart was beating erratically, and he tried to calm down despite the taut body pressing into his back. He thought of their plans, and decided there would a better time to go all the way.

“Goodnight, Viktor,” Yūri finally said, slowly brushing his fingers over the pale skin of his inner arm.

The words were met with a hummed, breathy response, which filled Yūri with a sensual warmth as torture and pleasure softly mixed together.

_Viktor! Please stay with me in competitive figure skating for one more year! This time, I’ll win for sure!_

Viktor, by stating his incredulity at Yūri’s lack of gold medals, really drove home how much he believed in his abilities, despite also understanding his need for Viktor’s help. That was why, after he finished his free skate and was awarded silver, Yūri asked Viktor to be his coach for one more year – they could take gold together, and be competitors too. He knew…he knew he had to fight his way up to finally win the Grand Prix Final gold, surprising and surpassing even Viktor.

He ached to always have the bliss of Viktor’s hand entwining in his, their engraved rings side by side as he drifted asleep, lips lingering on his neck. He just had to show it to Viktor again.

 

The following morning was breakfast outside, and Viktor was already brimming with excitement over a cappuccino, which had a Florentine fleur-de-lis drawn in its foam. He was going over what they should see in the Uffizi Gallery, considering it was huge. There was Botticelli, Da Vinci, Raphael…and apparently his personal favorite among Italian painters, Piero della Francesca. Hearing the wait in line there could be extremely long, they booked their admission tickets ahead of time, planning to head there after lunch.

By the time they left the bar Yūri was fully awake, taking in all the scenery. It was no wonder the city was designated as the cradle of the Renaissance, due to its magnificent architecture of said period. 

Viktor brought an arm around Yūri, who was looking down at the English guide as they slowly walked through the street.

“Here it says Florence was founded as a settlement for veteran soldiers of Julius Caesar.”

“Oh, so it’s a Roman city,” Viktor observed, taking out his phone. “It’s still early. Perhaps we could go see the Old Bridge before heading to the Cathedral?”

Yūri nodded, relishing in the warmth of Viktor’s hand on his shoulder as he put away the guide and hooked an arm around Viktor’s waist.

They walked down the Arno River, until they saw a segmental arch bridge that was dominated by small buildings, most of which were workshops of goldsmiths.

“Well that’s unusual…” Yūri observed.

“It used to be common to have shops built along the bridges like that, apparently.”

As they were about to enter the arcade along the river, Viktor stopped to take a picture of Yūri, and not before long he asked a passerby to photograph them together with the bridge in the background. Yūri knew Viktor would be uploading it to Instagram, and before the person taking the picture could count to three, he brought his hand to Viktor’s face, causing the man to turn and lower his head to meet his eyes.

The passerby sounded rather content of the result when Yūri looked back toward them, and offered to take another. This time Viktor was the audacious one, and brought their foreheads together, causing Yūri to blush and almost close his eyes. Once it was done they thanked the passerby, who smiled and handed Viktor back his phone. This time the photograph was waist up, and to Yūri’s surprise he came out pretty decently.

While they continued to walk Yūri's phone started to ring, and he realized it must be Chris, who messaged earlier saying he could meet up with them tomorrow on their way to Venice. The Swiss figure skater had relatives who lived in the area, which was no real surprise considering his Italian last name, Giacometti. Picking up his phone, he noticed Viktor walk to the window of a shop at the foot of the bridge, before gesturing that he was going inside.

While he finalized plans with Chris he scanned the window of one of the shops, full of gold and silver jewellery. Some pieces were extremely unique, recalling Etruscan design.

_“How are you two doing, by the way? Is your master treating you well?”_

Yūri could not help himself from chuckling, thankful for once that Viktor was not there to eavesdrop.

“Couldn't be better, honestly,” he replied without any reserve.

_“I expect my wedding invitation...”_

“I need a GPF gold medal first, remember?”

Yūri could already see the sarcastic look on the other man’s face as he replied.

_“'Mais bien sûr.”_ 1

Yūri then saw Viktor coming towards him, and asked Chris if he wanted to say anything to him.

_“You can tell him for me: his short program could crank it up a notch.”_

Yūri floundered, unsure how to relay a message like that, but managed to sputter an “okay” before saying “see you tomorrow” and hanging up.

Viktor rejoined him and asked who it had been, to which, after a few moments, Yūri said “your mature _eros_ rival, who thinks you need to step it up.”

Viktor grinned and they began to cross Ponte Vecchio. Midway the shops came to a stop, giving to an area with a panoramic view; the center of the bridge was lined on its east side only by the Vasari Corridor, which was supported by the arcade. Opposite to it instead was a bust of Benvenuto Cellini surrounded by a black railing. 

“Looks like there’s another case of love lock mania here. You can get a €160 fine if you get caught putting one on the railing,” he smirked as he looked at the sign.

“Yūri–”

Whenever Viktor used that tone of voice it meant trouble, and Yūri followed him as he walked to the wall behind the bust, gingerly pulling his hand out of his pocket.

“Wait...where did you get that padlock?” Yūri watched Viktor set it on the grey stone.

“I bought it at the end of the bridge while you were on the phone with Chris. But don’t worry, I don’t plan on becoming a vandal.”

Viktor then took out a thin permanent marker and wrote his name on one side, handing it to Yūri for him to write his once he was done.

“W-What will you do with it?” he asked as he jotted down his name on the shiny padlock, adding the day’s date on its side.

“I think it would go well on the ring of keys to our home.”

Yūri’s hands momentarily froze before he looked up at Viktor, who he knew could probably see his face going up in flames before he handed him back the padlock and merely nodded his head, at loss for words.

Viktor then drew him into an embrace and kissed his nose, which immediately broke his silence.

“We need to get going!”

“I’ll follow your lead then...” Viktor whispered into his ear seductively.

“You know I follow you,” he rejoined.

“Well you’re my best student, surely you can show me the way?”

Yūri stood on his toes while grabbing Viktor’s shirt to pull him into a kiss, drawing it out so it was sweet and slow.

“You know I sometimes don’t listen,” he then said against Viktor’s lips.

“...What were we talking about again?” the other replied in a haze.

“How you’re a shameless flirt?” he intimated, his eyes musing on Viktor.

“It only means something with you, my love.”

Yūri knew he often thought this, but he was not sure he could handle all this happiness, let alone believe that beautiful smile was for him.

He took Viktor’s hand and led him towards the end of the bridge.

 

After visiting the beautiful cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore, they made their way to the Galleria dell'Accademia di Firenze. Viktor seemed to be looking forward to it, and Yūri did not have a hard time guessing why: the man’s interest for Classical and Neoclassical sculpture seemed rather evident by the Hermes bust in his room.

“Apart from Michelangelo's _David_ , the gallery even holds a collection of Russian icons,” he told Yūri before putting away his phone.

“I’m looking more forward to the former…”

“Yūri,” he said in his fake scandalized voice before adding “...Me too.”

The walk was not far, and once they managed to get in they finally came to face with the enormous marble statue. They stood there observing, until Yūri went to look at it from the back.

“It is a lot bigger than I imagined,” he said eventually.

Viktor already had his phone ready, and hurried towards him.

“I have the greatest idea for a picture. Hold your hand out with mine.”

“...Seriously.”

“I’m sure Michelangelo wouldn’t mind. Do it with me!”

Giving in, Yūri stretched his right arm towards the sculpture alongside Viktor, who was grinning like a fool as he strategically positioned their hands to the camera lens. Once he finished, he set the timer in order to take the picture. When it was done Yūri looked at the screen, and saw both of their arms stretched out, hands angled in a way it looked like they were copping a feel of David’s ass.

“This is worthy of Chris. You should send it to him,” Yūri jabbed.

“Better not. He may take it as a proposal for a threesome,” Viktor replied nonchalantly.

Swearing under his breath, Yūri spent the rest of the visit trying to rid of that mental image.

 

The rest of their day went by as fast as a dream, and when they finally headed upstairs to the hotel restaurant for dinner, Yūri started regretting the fact they still had to train, meaning their time alone in the hotel room would be short. He knew they could easily fool around in bed after practice, but he did not want to do anything while they were that tired, especially now that everything was still so new.

It was his own choice, but that did not mean he found it any less frustrating.

For instance now – Viktor was in semi-casual clothing like he was, but Yūri would have still put the former’s portrait up in a museum. His shirt was slightly unbuttoned, and it was taking all of Yūri’s willpower to not let his eyes wander by the time the man looked up from the menu.

Why did he have to be so…tempting? Yūri was only human after all.

“What would you like to order, Yūri?”

_You._

“Ah…the steak is fine,” he replied, roused from his waking dream.

“I think I’ll take that as well.”

Viktor read out the name of the dish and handed the menu back to the waiter, who took off to place their order. His eyes were then back on Yūri, who could only helplessly stare back.

“Are you okay? You seem pensive.”

“Eh? Oh, yeah, I’m fine!” he clarified immediately, already seeing concern marring the other’s features. Determined to wipe away any doubt that he was not, he wrapped his hand around Viktor’s, whose face immediately lit back up.

“Venice might be a little intense when we’re with Chris, but it’s only till lunch,” Viktor assured with a smile, “Then it will be just us.”

_Just us._

“I don’t mind! It’s fun together,” he insisted.

“But we could use some fun alone, right?” Viktor drawled.

“Well, now that you mention it…”

“ _Due fiorentine!_ ”

The waiter arrived with the food, and as bad as the timing was he had to admit the “Florentine” T-bone steak set in front of him looked rather appetizing. He squeezed Viktor’s hand and cracked a smile before thanking the waiter and picking up his tableware to start eating, deciding it was probably better to not have this conversation in public anyway.

“You were saying?” Viktor continued.

As if Viktor would let it go.

“Uhm...I was thinking we could practice lifts tonight.”

“Just lifts?”

Yūri swallowed a barely-chewed piece of his steak, wondering if he would survive this conversation now that he had started it.

“Yeah. I was thinking of leaving the harder stuff for when we have more time.”

At that Viktor’s face seemed to take on a new light, his now sultry gaze making Yūri’s head feel like it was floating.

“Maybe it's not as hard as it looks.”

“Said the genius,” Yūri quipped.

They continued eating comfortably until they were done. Once the bill was taken care of they headed to the room, and Yūri could sense Viktor was watching him intently. As much as he secretly wished for Viktor to pin him to the wall and kiss him senseless like that other time, he knew it was not going to happen after what he said at dinner. He kicked himself mentally, figuring he would just have to vent this pent up frustration on the rink. 

The door had just shut behind them when he felt Viktor grab his hand, and the caress of the latter’s thumb against his skin was enough to set his mind on fire.

“Let’s kiss a bit?”

Yūri exhaled and tried to calm down, removing his glasses turning around to embrace Viktor. Ever since they had left for this trip it was like the dam had broken, and he was inevitably going to reach sea.

Using his entire body he pushed Viktor into the door, and was quick to catch the latter’s mouth as it opened in surprise. He could almost taste the desperation Viktor’s lips gave him, and made sure he did not press his body down too hard, otherwise he would have lost it from there.

Viktor’s fingers then trailed down Yūri’s back like he was savoring every inch of him, causing his brain to short-circuit as they dipped lower.

“Ah–”

Viktor’s mouth had gone for his neck, hand now fondling his backside like it was meant to be there. After a few moments it was gone however, and Viktor breathed an apology into his neck. The sound intoxicated him, and he knew they would have to stop now if they going to get in any practice. Pressing one last needy kiss, he dragged a hand down Viktor’s face.

“I’m yours to touch,” he said before stepping away.

He loved the way Viktor looked, cheeks rosy and lips apart, with just a hint of disheveledness. What Yūri said evidently pleased him, too, because soon he was all smiles and reaching for his bag with incredible enthusiasm.

“Let’s get to the rink.”

 

It took less than half-an-hour to reach Firenze Winter Park. The main ice rink was small, but rather empty at least. By the time Yūri had finished warming up Viktor skated towards him, and they began to go through the rough choreography of the new exhibition skate for Viktor. They had already commissioned the music, and it was of course classical. They were planning to have it all ready once it was time for the Grand Prix Series. The idea made him feel like he had a lot to look forward to as a figure skater, and that his story with Viktor was still being written.

“Ready? One, Two…”

At three, Yūri was lifted into the air. Once Viktor’s arms were fully extended, he let go of Yūri’s waist, and in an upright position he rotated a single time before Viktor caught him again, accompanying his backward one-foot landing.

Yūri grinned at him, thinking they could probably do double twist lift if they wanted to.

The more they practiced these type of moves, the more Yūri wished same pairs could compete – it was a career that could last longer, too. He may have been way past the phase of specializing in something of the sort, but it was still something he wished to stand behind.

He put his hand on Viktor’s shoulder, and continued to glide with him across the ice until they entered a spin, holding onto each other’s waists before bending into different positions, his free leg low until it was lifted by Viktor, who wrapped his hand around Yūri’s neck. Their fluidity was rather remarkable despite having practiced it only a handful of times. The thought skating with Viktor could become as natural as breathing shook him to the core. He found himself chasing Viktor’s eyes, and wishing their bodies never separated, though normally he was just as glad to watch Viktor do solo components.

Once they were half way through they skipped to the end the choreography, which was his favorite part despite the difficulty of the pair spin. Viktor was turning as Yūri loosely held his waist, lifting his leg to enter the camel spin first. He placed both hands on Viktor’s back to then assist the other’s entrance into the position – face toward the ceiling – until both of their free legs were parallel to the ice, making nearly four rotations before lowering their legs again. In the transition Viktor then spinned in place before they stretched out their arms, connected only by their other hands as their bodies mirrored each other.

After doing [this sequence](https://media.giphy.com/media/hXTTHmPLVLlzW/giphy.gif) his heart would always pound crazily in his chest, and he probably failed to keep his exhilaration from showing because then Viktor pulled him into a crushing embrace, eventually earning them a wolf whistle from one of bystanders across the barrier.

“Since we have an audience, let’s give them another performance worth watching,” Viktor whispered suggestively into his ear.

They then went through Yūri’s exhibition skate, and it was not long before he realized a fairly large group of people had started to watch them. They had performed before larger audiences and made even bolder public displays of affection, but he was slightly flustered now due to how self-conscious the implications of Viktor’s words had made him, and was rather relieved when they finished and started to practice their own programs.

  


It was almost midnight when their training came to an end, and they made their way back to the hotel. Tiredness gave him less energy to think, but he still felt a little wound up after their pair skating. There had been more touching and whispering than usual, and Yūri was sure it was thanks to their short makeout session in the hotel room – not that they did not fawn over each other with any less intensity sometimes.

He headed to shower first to quickly rinse off, opting to wash his hair in the morning. Viktor took a bit longer once he went in, joining him in bed only twenty minutes later, shirtless. He smelled so good, and Yūri put an arm around him, immediately prompting the latter to pull him to his chest, and before Yūri could stop himself, he was kissing the flesh and sucking there, unable to hold back a sound when he brought Viktor’s left nipple into his mouth. The reaction was immediate, and Viktor fisted a hand into his hair as he pulled the tip with his teeth.

“If you continue doing that, we will have another long training session, I assure you,” he breathed out.

Smirking, he gave the nub coming between his fingers one last kiss.

“So I’m going to just leave the other one alone like that?”

He did not need to be told because Viktor’s hand was already pushing him in that direction, and he hungrily took the other nipple into mouth, humming in satisfaction when he heard Viktor moan.

“Do you like it when I do this to you?” he asked playfully after giving another suck.

“I _love_ when you touch me, Yūri,” Viktor immediately replied before leaning in to give him an open-mouthed kiss. Before Yūri could slip in his tongue Viktor pulled away, moving down to lift his shirt and press kisses against his stomach. He nearly jolted at the touch, realizing he was on the verge of getting an erection.

“Okay, I won’t tease anymore,” he nearly whimpered.

Yūri could already imagine the self-assured grin on Viktor’s face as he pulled his shirt back down, pressing a kiss over the fabric.

“I’m pretty sure I signed up for long foreplay, but for tonight I’ll forfeit.”

Viktor pulled the sheet back over them, and turned to lie on his side, so his back was toward Yūri. The view was still tempting, but Yūri managed to not try anything, willing his libido away until sleep finally set in.

_I love to touch you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 _mais bien sûr_ = but of course


	6. Venice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only thing keeping this a "slow burn" is the fact I wrote the last chapters before the rest of the story ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

They had checked out after breakfast, walking through the historical center on their way to the car. A light sparked in Viktor’s eyes when, casually, he saw the new background of Yūri’s phone. It was a photograph of them alongside the Arno River, with Ponte Vecchio behind them – Yūri must have saved it after Viktor posted it on Instagram. He had uploaded it because the action in the _other_ photograph had been so unexpectedly intimate. He was staring at the gap in the customized holder of his phone when he had felt Yūri’s hand on his face. As if it was only natural to follow that warmth, he turned towards Yūri, who was looking at him with what seemed like a mixture of reverence and longing, making his heart skip a beat. Yūri often did that to him whenever he took the initiative.

Yūri’s touches and caresses had been happening with greater frequency ever since their first night in Rome, and Viktor knew sooner or later they would both give in to this hankering for each other. The last two days they had traveled or trained till late, so there had been few occasions, since they had to make the best of their trip during the day. After toiling hours on the ice, he knew just how important time outside together was, and perhaps also for this reason each day felt like it had its special place in his memory.

He had already planned a surprise for their day in Venice. He would not reveal it until evening but the excitement was already making him giddy, as if waking up to Yūri spooning him had not been enough. The thought that life and love was his everyday now had him made him feel so light and free, and sometimes he wondered how it was possible one night after a competition had changed everything. After channeling most of his energy into figure skating, eventually he found himself at a crossroads – to continue or retire – with nothing exciting to look forward to in either case.

Then Yūri asked him to be his coach.

Of all the people he had met, no one had ever left such a lasting impression on him. That evening he caught Yūri’s gaze before Yūri walked away with shock on his face had just been the beginning. When he watched him skate during the Grand Prix Final in Sochi, he figured Yūri was a fan due to certain elements in his style, but he had no idea of the extent of the other’s dedication.

He could not think of anything he had devoted more time and energy to than his place in the figure skating world, never really seeking a source of motivation outside of himself...the main reason being that there was often a sense of distance between himself and those around him, his relationships feeling all the more anchored to his career. By the time Yakov became his coach, he was fully taken by the idea of leaving an impression, starting from the audience, need it take a transformation in his style or a groundbreaking program, and somewhere along the way, it began to feel artificial. There was nothing and no one outside of himself really provoking such changes.

The many masks he had worn had stemmed from his creativity, until he realized just how jaded the man of his free skate really was. After Sochi, when he began to prepare his new routines, the only feelings he could draw inspiration from were his passion for figure skating and the flame that banquet night request had ignited in his heart.

It was truly poetic how his routines regarding love, _Agape_ and _Eros_ , had been passed down as they were, when he thought both concepts were out of his reach. Yet by daring to answer the call he received, for the first time it felt like both of them were. In the end, he had both his love for skating – and his love for someone – to fight for.

After so many years, a sense of accomplishment that was not fleeting finally sank in. If only recently he had realized just how lonely the top was, with even long-time friends like Chris treating him like a barrier to overcome, he was now certain there was a skater who saw him differently...

In the end, his skating left an impression on someone in a way he had not expected, and somehow, he himself had been accepted with it.

Did Yūri realize how happy it made him?

 

It was nearly a three-hour drive to Venice, so they would arrive there by lunch. On the way they planned to meet Chris and check out the _Mestre Carnival Street Show_ in Piazza Ferretto. Mestre was one of the six boroughs of the Commune of Venice. From there it would take only a ten minute drive to reach the shore of the Venetian Lagoon, before crossing Ponte della Libertà and entering the city, which was situated across a group of numerous small islands.

Midway their journey from Florence to Mestre they stopped in Bologna for a quick coffee, buying a bag of dried _tortelli_ before making their way back to car. He was so excited about getting to their destination he barely spoke as he focused on the road, but whenever there was a stop he always reached over to touch Yūri, who seemed to be watching videos with his headphones. At a traffic light he stole a look while the latter turned his head to look out the window, and noticed Yūri was actually looking at photos they had taken while music played in the background.

Reaching to caress Yūri’s knee while he was still checking the traffic light, he was surprised when the other man’s hand wrapped around his tightly, before returning to the side of his phone.

“Park the car somewhere. Secluded.”

Confused, he pressed the accelerator as soon as the light turned green, looking around for a place to park. They had just hit the highway, but there were parking lots in front of stores and restaurants that seemed rather empty. Deciding to park behind one that seemed closed, he lifted the parking brake and turned to Yūri, who had opened the car door and was getting out.

Before he could say anything, Yūri turned and lowered his head to face him, his expression neutral.

“Get in the back.”

In Florence he had rented a recent model _Fiat 500_ , painted in “Pasodoble Red.” It was a lot more spacious than its vintage predecessor, but Viktor still had to squeeze himself through the space behind the folded seat, after which he closed the door. For a moment he thought Yūri was going to drive and make him rest in the back, but instead Yūri climbed in next to him once he was settled.

Before he could even process what was happening Yūri’s hands were on him, sliding under his shirt and over his skin in calm reverence, and in utter disbelief he felt suddenly made of jelly. Swiftly removing their shoes, and with a strength Viktor almost had forgotten Yūri had, Yūri then pulled him down carefully to lie on his back, his legs bent to the side until Yūri pushed them back to lodge between them, one foot planted on the ground near the backseat. Gasping, his entire body pulsed in excitement as Yūri then leaned over him, beginning to stroke and kiss his face.

“I’m going to touch you now. Is that alright?”

After breathing out an affirmative response, he repeated a variation of “please, yes” at least five times as Yūri kissed down his throat, making him throb in need. His feet pressed into the side of the car as he unraveled beneath Yūri’s earnest kisses and touches, their breaths coming out in a frenzied succession between small moans and sighs.

Just when he was coming down from the surprise, Yūri’s hand cupped his erection, and in that moment he knew he had never been so aroused. There he was, cramped in the back of a car, getting palmed by his fiancé in a parking lot outside Bologna.

Almost all coherent thought had left him as he began to shallowly thrust against Yūri’s hand, trying to not cause the car rock with his movements. He would rather kiss the Russian Skating Federation’s ass for the rest of his life than risk being interrupted by drawing suspicion.

Yūri licked his bottom lip and Viktor’s mouth opened, panting as Yūri finally unzipped his pants, sticking his hand down his briefs.

The last thread of his restraint snapped as Yūri’s bony fingers wrapped around him; he began touching every part of Yūri he could reach, writhing in pleasure. The latter turned to take off his glasses using his other hand, leaning to set them on the console. During the movement Viktor’s hand, as if had a life of its own, immediately reached behind Yūri and squeezed.

“Yūri…” he said in a low voice as his body wracked with burning thirst.

The hand around his arousal tightened, and his heart could not beat any faster as Yūri pulled out his erection, his other hand pushing up Viktor’s dark blue shirt. The thumb of Yūri’s right hand rubbed the tip, and he felt himself twitch in pleasure as he took in the other man’s face, a perfect mix of lust and emotion. Yūri then lowered his head and closed his hot mouth around Viktor’s nipple, prompting Viktor’s eyes to close as his back arched from the seat.

“Yūri!”

The sounds of that mouth mixed with Yūri’s cut off moans against his skin, and the pace of the strokes dragged out, making him whimper as it heightened his desire even more. Yūri then moved to rest his face in the crook of his neck, whispering what sounded like sweet-nothings in Japanese, his words laced with lust and adoration.

It was too much, and he knew that soon he would be finished.

“Yūri, Yūri...what about you?”

The latter did not hinder his movements until he sat back up on his knees, staring at Viktor hungrily, with eyes that could pierce right through him, injecting adrenaline into his bloodstream like a needle would into his veins.

Viktor moved to unbutton and unzip Yūri’s pants, smiling as he felt the hardness under the fabric of the other’s boxer briefs.

“Is this for me?”

Yūri gasped beneath his touch, a beautiful blush painting his cheeks as he nodded his head, causing the heat in Viktor’s gut to coil as he dragged his hand back slowly.

“Touch yourself for me.”

Yūri’s eyes widened, his mouth agape as he stared down at Viktor. His hand was still holding Viktor’s erection, his fingers tensing to add more pressure.

Viktor caressed his left arm until Yūri made up his mind, pushing down the hem of his briefs and pulling out his arousal for him to see. The head was shiny with pre-ejacuation, and for a moment Viktor forgot he was aching for release as Yūri began to slowly pump his own shaft in front of him, allowing the foreskin to fully retract.

A reminder of how close he was then hit him full force when Yūri began to stroke his erection again. Viktor’s hands scrambled to pull up Yūri’s shirt, his thumbs circling Yūri’s nipples until they were perk and sensitive from his touch. He then brought his hands to his own chest, now moist with perspiration, dragging the fingers over his skin and squeezing in time with his moans as Yūri gazed at him.

“Viktor, you’re so...erotic!” Yūri panted as he stroked himself and Viktor harder, biting his lip as if to stop the other sounds from escaping his mouth.

The sight was too much and his eyes shut as his body tensed for release, before he heard a cry that made his eyes open again. Yūri was coming, languidly jerking as ejaculation coated his left hand. Perhaps Viktor was dreaming, because that was exactly what it seemed like. Thrusting without any further inhibitions into Yūri’s hand, his orgasm ripped violently out of him, lines of semen shooting across his stomach and chest as his mind flooded with white, Yūri’s name on his lips.

His heart was beating madly against his ribcage, but his ruin was when Yūri took the hand he was stroking himself with and smeared it down his torso, mixing it with his semen. Delirious, he propped himself up onto his elbows and caught that beautiful mouth, unable to part even as Yūri pulled back, until at last he pushed Viktor down.

“I need to clean us up,” he panted before reaching for the wet wipes that Viktor remembered being near the windshield.

Though he was dying to ask when Yūri came up with the idea of jerking him off in the back of the car like it was no big deal, he kept quiet, staring up reverently as Yūri meticulously wiped off the evidence of their activities, back to looking innocuous as he slipped back on his glasses and zipped up their pants.

Yūri gave him an amused look, and Viktor guessed it was in reaction to the very stupid expression that must have been on his face.

“Will you be able to keep your hands to yourself while you drive now?”

Viktor nodded, pulling Yūri down for another kiss.

He was truly blessed.

 

Despite their delay they arrived in Mestre in time for their appointment, and Viktor had to admit he had not expected to feel as calm and elated as he did while crossing the square full of people with his arm around Yūri’s shoulder. While he was still excited about tonight, this day was already too good to be true.

Now they were heading to a pub nearby to meet up with Chris and his boyfriend, who was a member of the Swiss Skating Federation and former ice dancer. It was not often that Viktor saw them together, but when he did it was always amusing.

They were already sitting at the table when they went inside, and after shaking hands and introducing themselves, Yūri having never met Chris’s boyfriend, they sat down. The waiter brought them menus and Viktor recommended Yūri to have something not too heavy, since he wanted them to go big on dinner tonight.

Yūri asked Chris for a suggestion, and in the end ordered a bruschetta. Viktor ordered the same, and to drink they all took beers. By the time the food arrived they were talking about Worlds, and Chris turned to Yūri.

“Did you pass on my message to Viktor?”

“Yeah. Why?” Yūri acted casual.

“Because I can tell someone’s been training him.”

Viktor did everything not to laugh while Yūri gawked at Chris until he was ready with his own comeback.

“So you can tell by looking alone? Because I thought you needed your hands to–”

“Actually that other method can yield rather inaccurate results,” Chris cut him off before he could bring up the butt grab in front of his boyfriend. Viktor was pretty sure the latter was already used to Chris’s antics, though.

They then began to talk about the Carnival, which was ending tomorrow. In today’s program there was the show taking place in Mestre, so they would take a look before making their way to Venice, where even more people went around dressed up in marvelous period-inspired masks and costumes. From what Viktor had seen in videos Venetian-costume wearers posed very solemnly, leaving a rather otherworldly impression.

Once they finished their beers they paid and headed out to the square, already seeing a crowds of adults and dressed-up children around a stage. Among the balloons and children’s activities people were gathering for the upcoming parade and stage performances.

Chris began talking about many Swiss participated in the Carnival, and how he wanted to try it someday.

“I’m sure it wouldn’t cost half of what tailoring a figure skating costume does,” Chris affirmed.

“All this talk about masquerades reminds me of [the winning pair skate last Olympics](https://youtu.be/y8t1F9TtOsc). In fact, jealousy would be a good theme for you...” Chris’s boyfriend began to tease, referencing the Russian play the short program’s full music – _Masquerade_ Suite – was based on.

“Doesn’t that mean you would have to dress up as the murdered spouse? You clearly haven’t thought this through.”

“Who was talking about that!”

Viktor watched in delight as they shot back and forth, squeezing Yūri’s hand as they walked. By the time the event was officially going to begin they had to go, otherwise they would not have been able to see much of Venice itself.

“Thanks for coming out for us today. Are you staying with your relatives?”1 Yūri asked.

“We’re driving to Trento and heading back home tomorrow. There’s not much time to relax, after all.” Chris winked.

They bid each other goodbye, and before they lost sight of each other in the crowd, Chris called out to Yūri from over his shoulder.

“We’ll see who surpasses Viktor at Worlds, _mon cher rival_!” 2

 

It did not take long for them to reach Piazzale Roma to leave the car. They had already booked a spot, and after paying their ticket they began to excitedly head towards the canal with their luggage. They would need to take a steamboat to reach the center, where the amazing cathedral of St. Mark was. It was probably the most prominent example of Italo-Byzantine architecture, its interiors filled with gold mosaics.

Once they bought and validated their ticket, they boarded _vaporetto_ in the Canal Grande. It was very crowded, so they went to stand by the railing. After some minutes it began to move, and soon they were passing under bridges and watching the canalside buildings go by. What was amazing was that some seemed on the verge of flooding, the water coming right beneath the doors. They saw numerous motorboats at their moorings and other steamboats cruising down the canal, until they finally spotted a _gondola_ , the Venetian boat par excellence, rowing by.

“We should hire one tonight.”

“How much money do you plan to burn today?”

“Oh Yūri. Perhaps I worded myself wrong. As a couple we _must_ take one.”

Yūri looked like he was about to roll his eyes at him, but instead he dragged a finger across his face. Again Viktor noticed the gradual shift in their relationship and wondered if their time in Rome was what flipped the switch. Body contact was nothing new between them, especially when it came to hugging, but things had taken on new meanings, and the physical distance was closing like the emotional one. Even so, he still had the impression he had a lot to learn about Yūri, who could also fail to comprehend him as well… Together they were still growing and becoming stronger.

Looking at the shore he then saw Santa Maria della Salute, a beautiful basilica that stood near the edge of the canal. The facade was richly decorated by statues, and from the side you could see it had two hemispherical domes, the one in the back lower and smaller in size. Built in the form of a rotunda, it stood out from the skyline as they rode past it.

Yūri seemed rather taken by the view, and soon they were in the middle of the San Marco Basin, surrounded by water from all sides. In the distance St. Mark’s bell tower was visible, across from the Doge’s Palace.

“After we check-in at the hotel, there’s St. Mark’s, the Doge’s Palace, the Bridge of Sighs...I suppose that’s enough or should we try to fit in something else?”

“That’s good. We need to get to the place for dinner by nine anyway.”

“What have you planned this time?”

“You’ll see. By the way...the hotel is five stars, but I didn’t book a suite, don’t worry.”

Yūri seemed resigned to the fact he was not going to hold back on the spending while they were in Venice, and nudged Viktor’s shoulder with his. 

Taking advantage of moment, he moved behind Yūri and wrapped his arms around him, enjoying the small sound of surprise as the latter braced the railing.

“Yūri is with me in Venice,” he could not help cooing, pressing into the crook of other man’s neck.

“Mm. Yes.”

“I can’t believe tomorrow is the last day of our trip,” he could not help but whine.

“We’ll make the best of it.”

Viktor paused for a moment, taking in those words.

“I have some ideas,” he finally replied, pressing a kiss to his neck.

“...Other than going to the opera?”

“Yes, but if you have any suggestions...let me know.” He gave one last squeeze, feeling the breeze ease down as the boat began to approach the shore.

They reached the dock of San Zaccharia and lined up to get off, dragging their luggages behind them. The hotel stood right across from them once they stepped onto the stone pavement, its name in gold letters emblazoned across the front – he had pointed out the building to Yūri as they headed towards it.

“That’s even too convenient. Please just tell me our room isn’t over four-hundred euro a night.”

“It’s less…”

_Though not by much._

When they entered the reception hall, Yūri stopped in his tracks, his eyes following the red carpet up the stone staircase across the atrium, which was four storeys high. Looking for the reception desk, Viktor turned to his left and saw there was a lounge inside what looked like the nave of a church, lined by Tuscan columns made out of marble.

“Impressive. Well, let’s go check in!”

Yūri followed him without comment, and not after long they were headed to their double deluxe room. As soon as he opened the door, Yūri seemed immediately relieved [the bedroom](https://web.archive.org/web/20170828151603/http://www.danielihotelvenice.com/en/rooms/deluxe-double) did not look as opulent as the reception hall, but then his eye caught something lying on the king-size bed.

“Are these...no way.”

“They’re for tonight – I got tickets for a dinner show and ball.”

Yūri stared at the two Venetian masks on the bed, realizing it must have been some special event tied to the carnival.

“Did you rent costumes, too?”

“I had one of my period costumes tailored for you – it’s in my suitcase. It was last minute but I got us matching brooches to wear with the jabots...”

Yūri picked up the blue and silver mask laid out for him.

“Doesn’t it cost a lot to go?” Yūri questioned, brushing his fingers over the [_Colombina_](https://web.archive.org/web/20170829000324/http://www.italymask.co.nz/shop/Wearable/Colours/Blue/Venetian+Masquerade+Mask+Colombina+Vin+Silver+Blue/x_sku/01123.html).

“We’re on vacation love. Let’s just enjoy ourselves.”

Yūri turned and gave him a cheeky smile.

“What kind of photoshoots are going to pay this off?”

“Exclusive ones with you, perhaps.” Viktor smiled devilishly.

Yūri looked like he was already imagining the exorbitant sum Viktor spent on doing all this, though he did not question it any further. Yūri always tried to hold Viktor back from lavish spending, but he also knew when to let it go.

“You overdid it. Are you my fiancé or my sugar daddy?”

“Your w-what…” he stammered as Yūri came towards him all confidence.

“Because you’re really good at both,” he said sultrily as he wrapped his arms around Viktor’s neck.

For once he did not know what to say as he stared back at Yūri, whose molten gaze could have sunk his. Figuring actions could speak for him, he pulled the younger man close, his hands sliding across the wings of his shoulder blades. He began to chastely kiss his face – if he got carried away now they certainly would not leave the room in time.

He still felt himself slipping, and when their mouths connected it was like inhaling air after being under water too long. Whenever their lips drifted apart, Viktor would open his eyes. If he could fill Yūri with even more pleasure...what would he look like?

Eventually he let go and backed away, his body protesting with each step. He dragged his thumb across Yūri’s bottom lip before breaking eye contact, kneeling down to open his luggage. After quickly taking out the costumes for later, he went to the bathroom to get ready to go out again, returning five minutes later to Yūri taking his toiletry bag to go after him.

Once they were both freshened up they hurried downstairs to leave the hotel, making their way to St. Mark’s Square. They passed through the adjoining space to reach the main area, their backs toward two large granite columns that carried the symbols of the patron saints of Venice, St. Theodore and St. Mark, near the lagoon.

Entering _la Piazza_ , they walked to the eastern end to reach the church, pigeons flapping out of the way as they quickly walked past. They only had half-an-hour before the last entrance to _Palazzo Ducale_ , a Gothic palace that once was the residence of the Doge of Venice, so they had to cut their visit to the church short. Viktor was looking forward to the gondola ride later, so they could pass under the bridge next to the Palace. Legend had that if a couple kissed there at sunset their love would last forever, so...he wanted to be there before six.

 

After their quick tour of St. Mark’s, they walked to the Doge’s Palace and spotted numerous people dressed up in elaborate Venetian costumes and masks, posing to have their pictures taken. The level of style and creativity was such that Viktor had no idea how one costume was chosen over the rest in the yearly contest, and gave up on trying to pick a favorite. Then he saw a lady with a miniature black pagoda on her head, complete with red paper lanterns, and he could not help being impressed, realizing her costume was inspired by the travels of the Venetian merchant Marco Polo.

After finishing their visit to the Palace they made their way to Ponte della Paglia. From there one could take pictures of the Bridge of Sighs, which was further up Rio del Palazzo, a canal that ran alongside the Palace. Viktor had already figured he could hire a gondola moored nearby, so he took Yūri down to the lagoon fifteen minutes to six to find one.

He saw some just across from the waterbus station, some large and small. One of the boatmen with red neckerchiefs flashed them a gentle smile, asking where they wanted to go and for how long. Viktor replied in French, assuming it sounded more familiar to an Italian’s ears. The gondolier then beckoned them and they approached his boat near the edge of the sidewalk. Despite his evident age, the gondolier was sturdy, with dark eyes and thick hair. Looking up from under his black wool beret, he stretched out his hand and, one at a time, helped them board the elegant black boat.

Once they sat down and were settled in the narrow seat for two people, behind them the gondolier began to propel the boat towards the canal, softly singing a song in what he guessed was Venetian. Without thinking twice Viktor took Yūri’s hand, telling him about the legend.

He liked the way Yūri’s eyes lowered to their clasped hands and looked back up at him, boring into his. As soon as the word “forever” left his mouth it was as if mind stopped working, and turning his head he saw the limestone bridge drawing near. He was sure the timing was obvious to the gondolier, who was rowing slowly until the bells of St. Mark’s finally tolled.

They were about to pass under the bridge, yet somehow he was unable to move, breath caught in his chest as his eyes flicked from Yūri’s eyes to his lips, now bathed in twilight. The bells rang loud in his ears and by fourth he recovered from his stupor, leaning closer until Yūri raised his right hand to his face. He should not have had problems carrying on from there, but all he did was wait until, finally, Yūri’s lips were pressed against his. Relief filled his chest as he kissed back desperately, realizing Yūri had simply waited until they were directly under the bridge to kiss him without hesitation.

Maybe the music their love created would really echo in eternity.

 

Once Francesco the gondolier dropped them off by one of the bridges further upstream they began to walk back, holding hands and enjoying the romantic scenery of the Floating City in the evening. After much meandering they made it back to the hotel, just in time to get ready for the dinner party.

He waited for Yūri to shower as he thought about how he probably would not be able to hold back the next time the other made a move on him, schedules and travel plans be damned. The times they had gone further had been amazing, and he could not get the thoughts out of his head anymore. All he wanted to do was make slow passionate love to Yūri until he screamed his–

“Viktor.”

Startled out of his thoughts, he turned towards Yūri, who was standing on the other side of the bed in a towel, hair combed back.

“The shower’s free.”

Viktor nodded and avoided to stare at that perfectly chiseled body – holding back emotionally was already hard enough without being reminded of how physically attractive Yūri was, too.

As soon as he got out of the shower he quickly dried himself off, feeling a bit more relaxed despite the pent-up frustration he felt.

He walked into the room donning a bathrobe and was immediately hit with the sight of Yūri shirtless and in breeches, adjusting the boot socks of his ensemble.

For a moment he considered going back to the bathroom, but then Yūri caught sight of him and smiled.

He could feel his heartbeat pick up, and before he could think of anything to say he was being pulled towards the bed. On it he had put the three-piece suits, his purple and Yūri’s blue.

“Aren’t you going to get ready? I want to see you in the dress suit...”

“Oh– Let me throw on some briefs,” he said in daze.

He began with the breeches, slowly pulling them up. It had been a while since he had worn them, but fortunately they still fit. He zipped them and reached for the boot socks, watching as Yūri slipped on his shirt. By the time Viktor got to buttoning his waistcoat, Yūri was checking how he looked in the mirror, admiring the coat.

The coat’s shoulders fit just right, though the arms were still roomy. Viktor’s was embroidered with a vintage design that encircled his waist, while Yūri’s went only around his sleeves and down the front.

“You look like a prince,” Viktor could not help from stating fondly. 

“I guess that means you look like a king,” Yūri immediately said back, looking at him from inside the mirror.

Viktor laughed and shook his head, continuing to admire how Yūri looked before suavely bending down on one knee to take his hand, which was partially covered by the lace sleeves of the dress shirt.

“Will you come to the ball with me?”

Yūri looked down at him, musing his response for a few moments.

“As what?” he then asked, expression serious though a smile danced on his lips.

“As the love of my life,” he replied emphatically with a kiss to his ring finger.

He watched as a blush finally flooded the other’s cheeks, giving him more than a tinge of satisfaction. The hand he was holding then moved to cup his face, thumb dragging across his cheek.

“Well you know the answer to that, don’t you?”

 

When they boarded the steamboat it was not crowded compared to earlier that afternoon, thus they could sit down and enjoy a better view of the canal. Yūri then asked where the event was being held, so Viktor took out his phone.

“Ca' Vendramin Calergi. It’s a historic casino.”

“So it’s a costume party...?”

“Here’s the description.”

Yūri scanned the text on Viktor’s phone, paraphrasing it aloud.

“Guests...are accompanied to the main floor living room for a toast and entertainment. Then to another room for a five-course dinner with a selection of wines, accompanied by live performances. The night goes on with shows in the hall. After midnight, music and cocktails...”

“Sounds like getting through dinner will be entertainment enough. Though dancing in these costumes sounds like fun...”

“Once the dinner show winds down it’s better we go. I rather not find myself having to walk...or swim back to the hotel.”

Viktor smirked, figuring it was more than that.

“And no getting drunk! We have to go to Milan tomorrow morning,” Yūri added.

Viktor pouted, but agreed he would not be able to drive if he had a hangover.

 

As had been expected, the dinner show was entertainment (and alcohol) enough for one evening, and they went to take the steamboat back to the hotel around eleven, dancing and laughing in the street until it finally arrived. 

Viktor loved these moments where they both let loose, ending up entirely wrapped up in each other.

Having boarded they went to the back of the boat, and once it departed Yūri moved to sit on his lap, fingers teasing the skin of his neck, right above his jabot.

He wrapped his arms around the other man’s waist, breathing in the scent of the light cologne Yūri was wearing, his skin already all too inviting.

“Where are you taking me now?”

Even with the mask Viktor could tell Yūri’s gaze was lustful.

“To the hotel, as you asked.”

“Is Your Highness already tired?” Yūri then whispered, making goosebumps rise on his skin.

“Off the ice,” he replied, taking Yūri’s chin, “my stamina is another story.”

“I think you’re in for a surprise, then.”

At that excitement filled Viktor’s chest, and he was thankful the sound of the steamboat drowned out their conversation, because he sure was not going to drop the topic now.

“What attests...your endurance?”

“The number of your posters I go through?” he posited. “Once I did three in succession,” he added with a laugh.

“W-Wow…”

“My favorite is from the program where you just had your hair cut; it reminded me of when I first saw you…”

Viktor listened as he elaborated in shock, not expecting the other would have gone into such detail. Yūri must have been more drunk than he thought, and it was probably best not to prod him further.

“Viktor,” Yūri then whispered, pressing his forehead against Viktor’s cheek. His voice was like silk, wrapping around Viktor softly. His lips began to slowly trail Viktor’s jawline, finally reaching his mouth. Viktor had been staring at him just moments before his brain short-circuited, and before he realized it they were kissing feverishly, which he could allow himself outside of the privacy of their bedroom at least, where desire was kept from engulfing him completely.

Viktor needed to be sure, no matter how willing Yūri was proving to be now. Unbeknownst to him, however, was the persistence that awaited him once they were in bed, Viktor having to coax him into a tight embrace until the other’s hands and mouth had stopped wandering. Yūri continued to breath heavily, saying Viktor was taking the gentleman act too far. Eventually Yūri’s frustration gave way to tiredness, and luckily for him, he fell asleep in less than twenty minutes – Viktor was not sure he could have taken it any longer.

Taking deep breaths, his heartbeat gradually steadied as he turned over and willed himself to ignore the tightness between his legs, the heat from having Yūri so close still surrounding him, making him feel like the drunk one, and so hopelessly in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 Christophe having relatives in Venice is based on the wide diffusion (as far as I know) of _Giacometti_ , an Italian last name, in the region of Veneto
> 
> 2 _mon cher rival_ = my dear rival


	7. Milan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is, in essence, the last chapter. The next will be a sort of epilogue. I'm not good at planning beforehand, but I hope the theme I was writing to came across. Thanks again to [@whatnopictures](http://whatnopictures.tumblr.com) for their beautiful artwork!

They stood across from the impressive gothic cathedral in Piazza del Duomo, deciding on where to go next. They had spent their afternoon in Milan visiting churches, and with incredible foresight and luck Viktor had even managed to reserve them tickets to see Leonardo Da Vinci’s _The Last Supper_.

Now Viktor wanted to go shopping, so as the official bag-carrier Yūri prepared to dissuade him from making too many purchases, especially at high-end shops – the gods knew just how much that man was capable of spending when something caught his eye.

So they headed to Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II, the world's oldest shopping mall, built in the late 1800s. Yūri was amazed by the iron and glass barrel vaults that made up the cruciform ceiling, crowned by a great glass dome. It was unlike any other shopping arcade he had ever been to – and thanks to Viktor he had seen quite a few. While they visited a few of the luxury retailers, Viktor insisted Yūri needed an entire new wardrobe, and by the end of a period of two hours he had a series of new shirts, pants, and shoes.

“ _That’s enough_. You can only buy food from hereon.”

Viktor pouted but not in a way it looked like he would contradict him, and began to walk towards a bar. Pulling out a chair, he had Yūri sit down – which Yūri did more than gladly, setting down all the bags – at one of the tables while he went to the bathroom, telling him to order whatever he wanted.

Getting a menu from a waiter, he looked for something to drink, and spotted the word “[Barbajada](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Barbajada).” Taking out his phone, he looked up what it was and did not remain disappointed. Knowing already what Viktor wanted too he ordered, and once the other came back their drinks arrived.

He had seen Viktor making his way past the tables to reach him, and it was if Viktor’s face had lit up once he had sat down with him. Yūri could feel the heat in his collar, and as if falling for Viktor all over again, he almost forgot about his drink. Having the perfect excuse Viktor had taken out his phone to take pictures, and once he finished they began to chat about their trip home tomorrow.

Neither of them was saying it, but Yūri knew that there was no way something was not going to happen later. His face heated up at the thought, and he mentally kicked himself for drinking last night. This morning he had been so embarrassed by the memories of what he said that he was barely able to look Viktor in the eye at breakfast, having clearly underestimated the alcohol content of what he drank at that dinner party; he had ended up heavily inebriated, although not to the point of drooling and stripping off his clothes.

That was something at least.

“Are you looking forward to our date tonight?” Viktor asked, suddenly all charm.

Just the right kind of question to set his mind ablaze, Yūri nodded quickly as he sipped his sweet drink, probably gulping more than he needed to.

“Are you?” he eventually said in reply.

“More than you can imagine.”

He could not believe the answers Viktor delivered sometimes, but it made warmth fill his chest, and he moved to take the other man’s hand.

“You’re clearly overestimating my company.”

Viktor laughed and it brought butterflies to his stomach, Viktor leaning in and giving him a peck on the lips only seconds later.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

***

“It’s going to be three hours and thirty minutes, intermissions included. I guess that means we should eat before.”

Yūri went in front of the mirror to comb back his hair, watching Viktor as he dialed the reception to make a reservation at the hotel restaurant downstairs. He noticed the latter stole glances at him, as if checking he would not put on his infamous tie. The idea made him smirk, and not even a minute passed before Viktor hung up and came behind him, wrapping his arms around his waist.

“What is it?” Viktor asked as he smiled at him in the mirror.

Yūri turned around, giving him a coy smile. The latter’s necktie was still undone, so he started to tie the knot, feeling the weight of Viktor’s gaze as he did.

“Which necktie are you going to wear, Yūri?” Viktor asked all too politely.

“Well I was thinking…” he replied as he purposely glanced at his striped blue one.

“Yū–ri!” Viktor whined.

“For some reason I'm not surprised you're taking me to see a tragic opera.”

“It's romantic!”

“That's what I mean.”

Before Viktor could protest further – about what exactly, he did not know – Yūri took the blue silk necktie Viktor had bought him the day before the Grand Prix Final, it forming a pair with Viktor’s purple one.

Viktor hummed in approval as Yūri began to tie the knot of the necktie in front of the mirror, his eyes becoming focused. Viktor then leaned over Yūri’s shoulder and began lightly kissing his face, making the color rise in his cheeks.

It really was something to see himself with Viktor like that.

Doing his best to finish the knot as he feebly evaded Viktor to check his tie in the mirror, he looked at the clock and suggested they get going…

They had a date to go on.

 

The singing was as glorious and the setting as sumptuous as he expected it to be, and despite he had no way of really following the dialogue, Yūri felt like he did not really need to; Verdi’s arias were attuned to the characters’ feelings in a way that anyone could understand the events unfolding on stage. 

Especially if they felt those emotions.

During the break after the first act they took a walk around the theater, eventually reaching an isolated staircase on one of the top floors. Then, as if Yūri drew Viktor like a magnet, the latter walked up to him, resting his hand on the lavishly decorated wall Yūri was now leaning against.

“Are you enjoying it so far?” Viktor enquired him in a warm voice.

“Very much… How about you?”

“Likewise. I just wish the box was just for two.”

“Are you that eager to be alone with me, Viktor?”

Viktor’s eyes widened at the surprisingly direct statement, soon darkening as he lowered his gaze to Yūri’s lips.

“If that so happened to be?” he asked smoothly, his voice dropping lower.

“Well...we’re alone now.”

“So we are…”

Yūri had already closed his eyes as Viktor leaned in, when the speaker announced the second act would begin shortly. Opening his eyes he looked at Viktor, whose lips were a hair’s breadth from his before he pulled back.

“We should hurry back then,” Viktor said as he took Yūri’s arm and linked it with his.

Despite the interruption and the distraction of the operatic performance, the tension between them did not dissipate, their hands joining in a firm clasp, keenly aware of each other for the rest of the spectacle.

When the opera drew to a close the audience broke into a long applause, the performers coming on stage to bow in an orderly fashion. People stood up from their seats, a series of _bravi!_ echoing from the area of the orchestra to the balcony. It may have have been long, but Verdi’s music easily transported listeners with its popular touch, the libretto he composed to also being masterfully written. The love of the protagonists may have culminated with the death of one of them, but it delivered a sense of triumph over everything, even the cruelty of destiny.

Having finished around eleven, they left the box and walked through the crowded passageway in direction of the stairs, walking down them until they finally reached the entry and exited the building.

They were walking hand-in-hand to the car in comfortable silence, when Viktor asked Yūri if he wanted to see Lake Como at night.

“It will take an hour drive, but while we’re here...”

Yūri certainly did not dislike the idea of a romantic escapade with Viktor, and nodded.

“Okay. Let’s just change out of our suits.”

 

The road after the highway was narrow and windy, but Viktor was an excellent driver and there was not much traffic. It had been a while since he had gone to a lake, and it would be his first time with Viktor. When they finally reached the city of Como, right at the edge of the lake, Yūri could tell Viktor was excited, a smile etched on his face as he drove to find parking at the lakefront.

Finding what was not exactly a marked parking space, Viktor turned off the car. Quickly unbuckling his seatbelt, Yūri looked over at a large stone monument outside his window, emitting a warm yellow light in the darkness. It looked like a tower of around thirty meters, with a staircase lining the front and the back. They got out and walked towards it, thankful it was close as it was best to not stray far from where Viktor had left the car.

“Seems pretty futuristic,” Yūri commented as they climbed the stairs on the lakefront of the avenue.

Looking up, he saw an inscription written in capital letters.

**STANOTTE SI DORME A TRIESTE O IN PARADISO CON GLI EROI**

"What does that say?" he asked.

“Something about sleeping in paradise...let me check on my phone.”

Going to Viktor’s side, Yūri awaited his response.

“Oh, it’s a war memorial. ‘Tonight we’ll sleep in Trieste, or in heaven with the heroes.’”

Looking out into the darkness of the lake, Yūri sat at the top of the stairs, and without warning Viktor plopped onto his lap, causing him to instinctively grab Viktor, the latter hooking his arms around his neck.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Just being myself.”

“Well you’re heavy,” he could not help but laugh.

“Well you're not as brawny as I thought!”

“Oh yeah?”

Not missing a beat he lifted Viktor up in his arms, holding him like a “bride” until he rested Viktor’s weight on his knee by bending his leg.

“You were saying?” he smirked as he hovered over Viktor’s face, tipping him down.

“I was saying you should kiss me.”

Hearing the sound of laughter approaching, in a fluster Yūri put Viktor down, barely managing to play it casual as a group of young people holding beer bottles passed by.

Figuring they should go back to the car to look at the lake, Yūri went down the stairs, looking at the lights of the city before returning into the darkness of the avenue with Viktor, now strangely quiet.

Once they were there, all it took was a glance before Yūri had his back against the hood of the car and Viktor's mouth on his. Overwhelmed, he grasped the back of Viktor’s jacket as the latter cradled his head. The pace of the kissing increased and Viktor’s right hand, now fisted in his hair, pulled gently, making his mouth open in response.

Yūri's mouth opened, his lips soft and inviting. Viktor pulled back to look at him before taking them again, leaving him breathless. Viktor’s mouth slid down to Yūri’s jaw, and the heat between the two rose when it reached the crook of his shoulder. Inebriated by the dash of cologne in Viktor’s scent, Yūri let go of Viktor’s jacket and roamed his hands down the latter’s back, which prompted Viktor to wrap his arms around him, kissing every patch of skin on Yūri’s neck that he could reach, pulling him off the hood as he held him close. With as much fervor Viktor then kissed Yūri’s face, which was probably crimson red – if the heat of his skin was any indication – biting Yūri’s bottom lip before licking it and taking his mouth again, making Yūri forget where he was until Viktor eventually brought him down to rest on his forearms, cupping Yūri’s face before releasing his grasp entirely.

Having opened his eyes, Yūri could see the heat in Viktor's gaze as he braced his hands against the hood, steadily observing him. The other man was not really the type to hesitate, but something seemed to make him pull back now.

"You’re so beautiful tonight," he finally said in a low voice as he leaned back in to gently cover Yūri’s hand, still pressed against the painted metal.

Yūri did not think he looked any different than usual: he was wearing a close-fitting hoodie and had opted for contacts, but it was nothing out of ordinary. If anything Viktor looked stunning, his face gleaming dimly under the street lamp, setting Yūri’s heart alight with the flicker of his eyes.

He really had it bad.

Exhaling, he pressed his other hand against Viktor’s chest, feeling the latter’s heart beat below his fingers. All he wanted now, he thought, was to lose himself in their last night in Italy together. Yūri’s hand went up to caress Viktor’s face and Viktor leaned into his touch almost instantly, his eyes closing. Yūri’s breath caught in his throat, something inside him suddenly aching.

“Do you...want to go back to the hotel?” he found himself asking.

Viktor’s eyes reopened and looked at him carefully, and Yūri pursed his lips as he looked down, unable to hold his gaze.

“I’m not tired yet. Are you?”

Yūri had to fight down a blush, because he was sure Viktor must have understood what he meant, and was just not letting it on.

“I mean...to do more…”

Yūri felt Viktor’s hand close around his, and the music of their duet began to play loudly in his head.

 

The hour to drive back dragged by, and as soon as they reached the hotel Yūri was overcome by anticipation. It was as if all of his feelings for Viktor were crashing down on him, making his body pulse in need while his heart twinged in longing. When they were finally in the room he felt the tension inside him peak as he watched Viktor take off his jacket and remove his shoes, his back turned as Yūri did the same. Managing to somehow withhold the urge to strip off the rest of his clothes and those of Viktor, who was now grabbing a bottle of wine from the minibar, he went to take a shower – he was Japanese after all.

As he stood in the frameless glass shower, he began wondering if Viktor had any condoms with him, or if...maybe they would go without. He knew Viktor had gotten checked (something about the last Olympics), and Yūri had never even gone all the way with anyone before. Lost in thought he scrubbed his body, eventually realizing that he should probably prepare himself in either case.

When he finally came out he found Viktor sitting quietly in a chair by the window, dressed a hazy grey shirt that was slightly unbuttoned and black pants. He had set out a glass next to the open bottle of wine on the small table, which stood between two comfy chairs, and suddenly the atmosphere felt romantic: the warm lights of the lamps were turned down low, the city lights were glowing outside the window, and most of all, Viktor was looking at him in a way he felt like he had seen before.

“Yūri.”

Feeling his gut tighten he edged forward, barely breathing by the time he reached Viktor.

Viktor’s eyes dropped momentarily to Yūri’s chest, the royal blue of his bathrobe complementing the pale brown of his skin. His hair was combed back as he dabbed it with a towel, his glasses slipping slightly down his nose.

Realizing he was taking too long to speak, Viktor gripped his leg and looked out the window, tearing his eyes away at last.

“Do you want a glass? It’s Barolo.”

Yūri would have any wine right now, even not one of the finest Italian ones, and simply nodded his head as he sat down in the other chair next to the window, in front of Viktor, who poured him a glass.

The color was a vibrant red, and he drank slowly, the strong taste coating his mouth. His eyes then drifted to Viktor, whose hair fell softly from his face as he leaned on the arm of the chair, his hand under the glass, which was almost finished.

When Viktor set his empty glass on the table, Yūri offered him his. Viktor nodded, but instead of handing it to him, Yūri stood up and came to sit on the arm of Viktor’s chair, holding it before him. Not taking it from his hand, Viktor placed his fingers under the bowl of the glass and brought it to his mouth as Yūri tipped it till it was finished.

Without taking his eyes off Viktor, he set the glass down on the table and noticed the red stain on Viktor’s bottom lip: leaning down to brush his hand through Viktor’s hair, tucking it behind his ear as he inched closer to the latter’s face, he caught Viktor eyeing his chest where the robe hung loose. When his mouth was a breath away from Viktor’s, arms wrapped around his waist and pulled him to sit on the other’s lap.

The wine’s aroma of tar and roses had made Viktor’s breath intoxicating, and he could feel his robe dropping lower and lower down his shoulders as Viktor embraced him, causing the heat to coil urgently in his body.

Viktor was already close, but it was not enough anymore.

“Come closer, Viktor.”

Viktor embraced him tighter.

“Closer…” he then whispered in his ear.

Viktor hooked one arm under Yūri’s legs and the other behind his back to stand from the chair, walking a few steps before setting Yūri down on the bed. Time slowed down, only to pick up again when Victor leaned over him on the mattress, pinning Yūri down with his gaze. Yūri felt his skin prickle, and there was no way he could hide his arousal anymore as he opened his legs. Viktor sunk onto his elbows and Yūri lifted his head, lips grazing Victor's chin like a hot blade. Soon their mouths were locked in a kiss, but it was not enough. Yūri grabbed Viktor’s shirt and made a sound when the latter’s body finally pressed into his, the sash of his robe now coming entirely undone as Viktor rocked in between his parted thighs, causing Yūri’s voice to soon break into a series of soft moans as he felt Viktor’s erection, although clothed, rub against his for the first time.

And already he was in the palm of Viktor’s hand, begging for him and lost in the bliss of their movements until Viktor stood up, panting, and slowly slid down his pants and black bikini briefs. Yūri had seen Viktor naked before, but it was never...never like this, and found himself almost gaping as he sat up and looked back up at Viktor, who brushed Yūri’s bottom lip with his thumb, cracking into a smile that complemented the red tint of his cheeks.

“Touch me, Yūri.”

His hand had come up without him even noticing, and already half way, he could not pull back now. His eyes dropped back to Viktor’s groin, and tentatively, he wrapped his fingers around it, the fluid dripping over the back of his palm. He may have seen Viktor back when they were in the car, but everything had been a bit hazy without his glasses. A new wave of excitement washed over him, and without thinking he clenched his hand.

“Y-Yūri…”

Yūri’s felt his fingers getting warmer as Viktor’s erection pulsated in his palm, worsening the ache between his own legs. He had dragged his hand up till the tip, swirling his thumb there, when Viktor tilted up his chin, sliding his thumb into Yūri’s mouth.

Instinctively Yūri began to suck on it, and Viktor’s thumb soon began to sweep over his tongue, his eyes fluttering before they shut, sighing when Viktor removed his thumb and began to prod his mouth with his index and middle finger. The moment Viktor’s fingers slipped out of his mouth, Yūri’s eyes opened, darkening when he saw Viktor fully erect in his hand.

“You’re beautiful,” he said in genuine awe.

Before Viktor could reply, Yūri’s hands were gripping the latter’s hips as he moved forward to kiss the skin above Viktor’s navel. The gesture had an immediate effect as Viktor’s hands dragged through Yūri’s hair as he edged lower, breathing in Viktor’s scent and kissing his way down, eventually slipping down the edge of the bed and onto his knees until he was face to face with what he wanted to savor.

Viktor’s breathing was heavy, and taking Viktor’s erection into his right hand, Yūri looked up at him in adoration.

“Can I…?”

Viktor’s right hand immediately caressed his face, his eyes glinting back at his.

“If you want, we can do it to each other at the same time.”

Yūri’s body pulsed at the proposal. It had not even crossed his mind before, yet now countless images were flooding his mind. There was no way he would refuse.

He stood up and let Viktor guide him onto the bed as he took off his glasses and discarded the bathrobe. Viktor laid his head on a large pillow he pulled away from the headboard, and Yūri felt his pulse quicken as Viktor slid a hand down his back, prompting him to turn. He closed his eyes and brought one leg over Viktor’s body, hearing Viktor’s breath hitch as he moved back.

“Ah...Yūri… Can I...back here?”

Yūri had already pondered the myriad of possibilities when he was cleaning himself in the shower, and let out a raspy yes before positioning his head over Viktor’s groin, his impatience having now outgrown his embarrassment.

He felt Viktor’s hands on his backside, and his arms buckled slightly before he rested on his elbows, his chin slightly grazing Viktor’s erection before he took it into his hands. His mouth was open and knew he must have been teasing Viktor with his breath, but he needed to calm down now that he knew Viktor was behind him, fingers so soft yet firm against his skin, eyes watching his every move in the dim light...

The realization of how much Viktor wanted him burned in his chest, mixing with how much he wanted him back.

There was no need to say it, but he wanted his mouth to express it in some way, and licked the slit before bringing his lips to kiss the tip of Viktor’s erection, Viktor’s ragged breathing all the encouragement he needed to continue as he hungrily sucked the head, which felt so right between his lips.

After a few moments he began to bob his head down on Viktor, unable to go very far but hollowing his cheeks to bring on more friction as he stroked near the base with his hand.

Viktor’s hands then gripped his backside tightly, and he finally felt the former wrap his fingers around his erection as he took it into his mouth, making Yūri almost jolt in surprise. Viktor's mouth felt too good – it would have taken nothing before Yūri came undone if he had not left it to a few long sucks: before Yūri could finish imagining what it would be like to come in that sweet, beautiful mouth, he felt a tongue flick against his entrance.

For a moment he halted his ministrations on Viktor, too distracted by the warm tongue that was now rimming him with no sign of stopping.

Yūri fisted the sheets until he could bring himself to continue, moaning Viktor’s name when the latter started prodding him with his tongue.

He sure hoped the walls of this five-star hotel were soundproof.

As if it were the only way to effectively stifle his moans, Yūri took Viktor into his mouth again, desperately sucking with neither focus or aim before his tongue languidly dragged over the slick skin, from bottom to top.

Feeling Viktor’s hands on his back he pushed himself up and began turning his body, missing Viktor’s face and his arms, which finally wrapped around him and brought him under the covers.

Viktor hovered above him, pupils dilating. Yūri then remembered where he had last seen that look: it had been the night of their exhibition skate, after they had returned to the hotel. Viktor had not done anything while they were in bed – other than hold him close, that is – because he had been holding back, Yūri realized.

The music of their exhibition skate was all about longing and being found, and skating it with Viktor was laced with meaning. When he skated with Viktor it was like being swept away, with every move he made depending on another force that could take him to greater heights. The more they would skate a certain routine, the more it felt they were the same as they twirled on the ice. Sometimes their bodies were so close and scorching hot he felt the world spin whenever their eyes met, unable to not wonder if making love with Viktor would be that different.

Now Viktor’s penetrating gaze was too much for him, and he could not help but moan; he was painfully erect, craving to be deep inside Viktor or vice versa, he could not really tell anymore. After Viktor positioned himself between his legs and aligned their erections, Yūri ran his hands over Viktor’s chest, grinding against the other’s groin once his feet were braced against the mattress.

Yūri could feel the heat emanating from Viktor’s body, and with the way Viktor rocked back into him, he knew something would have to happen soon.

“Do you...have any lube?”

Viktor stared back at him, as if he had not understood what he said.

“I...prepared myself in the shower...so if you want…” Yūri continued, his resolve gradually dissolving.

Viktor bolted out of bed to go through his luggage, finally returning with a travel-size bottle of what thankfully looked like lube, Yūri’s eyes barely able to discern the letters. Before Yūri could react Viktor’s mouth crashed into his, desperation now seeping through his confident, controlled exterior.

Reciprocating those feelings, Yūri slipped his tongue into Viktor’s mouth, forgetting how to breathe when Viktor’s slid against his, addicting him. If he thought Viktor could sate him with his kisses before, it was because he had not known how pleasurable this was.

His anticipation having reached an unexpected high, Yūri hooked his legs around Viktor’s back and began sucking on Viktor’s neck, finally prompting Viktor to move on with it as his hands scrambled to grab the bottle, forgetting where it was.

When he heard the cap open Yūri loosened his arms around Viktor’s neck, his eyes dropping to their groins, already drenched by the evidence of their activities.

“Vik...Viktor.”

“Tell me if there’s anything you want me to do,” he began to say as he squeezed out the liquid and rubbed it on himself, “I can barely reason...at the sight of you.”

“Keep looking...at me,” he let out as the other pushed back his legs.

Viktor pressed in slightly, and Yūri almost saw stars when he did.

“Yūri!”

The sound of his name on Viktor’s lips sent a thrill through his body, and he had to use all his focus in order to not clench down. He knew he was hyperventilating, that his heart was beating out of his chest, but he did not want Viktor to stop.

“Don’t worry. M-More…”

The friction against the opening was sweet and slow, and he craved for Viktor to push and pull out of him, to consume the desire that burned deep inside him for longer than he could remember.

He moaned and Viktor moved down to kiss him, to which he happily complied as he wrapped his arms further around Viktor’s neck, Yūri’s legs tightly enclosing his lower body.

Moments that felt like years passed till Viktor was finally thrusting inside of him, and Yūri wondered how something like this could not impregnate him for real when it felt so perfect and right.

He was staring into Viktor’s eyes when he felt a direct hit against his prostate, pleasure spiking through his body as he began to moan, eyes instantly shutting.

“You’re inside me,” he blurted out breathlessly, as if witness to a miracle.

“You feel…so perfect. Yūri…”

Viktor seemed at a loss for words, and it was strange, because Yūri never felt so vocal, and continued, his fingers sinking into Viktor’s back.

“You feel like everything I’ve ever wanted...Viktor.”

He had been able to get that sentence out pretty clearly despite his shortness of breath, but his thoughts were interrupted when Viktor began thrusting relentlessly, sighing into neck.

“Maybe because I’m yours,” he eventually replied, dragging his hand through Yūri’s hair and cupping his face as he gradually moved slower, accentuating each movement.

Yūri would have not questioned it further, but pleasure was drowning all his inhibitions.

“...You’re mine?” he let out.

Viktor braced the pillow where Yūri’s head was resting, his lips now brushing the edge of Yūri’s ear as their bodies writhed in ecstasy.

“Everything...it wouldn’t feel the same, without you bringing color to my life.”

Viktor kissed his temple and moved back to smile at him, but his face fell as soon as he noticed tears swelling up in Yūri’s eyes.

“Yū–” 

“Kiss me, Viktor.”

He hesitated a few seconds before sliding his lips over Yūri’s face, thumbs brushing under Yūri’s eyes as he moved towards his mouth, the light tease of his breath only a fraction away before he stopped just below Yūri’s nose, tilting his head sideways.

Before their lips could touch a sound escaped Yūri’s mouth, and Viktor captured it, drawing out more as they kissed. Yūri started to trace the seam of Viktor’s mouth with his tongue, the sensuous shape burning into his skin as it turned into smile, sending his heart into frenzy.

“愛...している…” he breathed out.

After a few seconds Viktor paused, as if he could not believe what he just heard.

The depth of their feelings had often been expressed through skating, but they had always called what they felt “love”; they even wore what in Viktor’s words were engagement rings, so it should have not have come as a surprise, especially after these past days, and yet…

Viktor’s gaze fell as he broke into a blush, the red painting his skin all the way to his ears.

“That,” he began, “almost sounds like…”

Yūri laughed.

“...like you're the one for me?” he posited.

Viktor’s eyes glistened, his silky hair dangling over his forehead, now shiny with perspiration.

“...like we’re already married,” he let out eventually.

Yūri stared back at him, not knowing how to react to that; he knew the Japanese had a reputation for not using the phrase lightly, and that words were often like a “callous shell” to feelings ineffable, but it had felt right to say it.

He mumbled a slightly embarrassed “ん” in reply, hands coming up to softly caress Viktor’s face.

Viktor’s head still hung in what seemed like amazement, but Yūri’s hands seemed to coax him into moving again.

The room was then filled only with the sounds of their gasps and choked moans, as Yūri’s hands began to leisurely slide down Viktor’s neck.

“Don’t stop touching me,” he said in a breathy voice, breaking their impassioned silence, “Yūri.”

He would not have been able to even if he had tried, his hands spreading out on Viktor’s chest, gripping harder as Viktor thrust into him faster, making him lose all sense of time and space as his mind chased that blinding light from beneath his fingertips.

His head angled back, and his left hand grabbed the pillow – he was so, so close.

“You're amazing,” Viktor gasped out.

He took Yūri’s left hand and pressed it into the pillow, entwining their fingers, while Yūri kept his right hand on Viktor’s chest, feeling his heartbeat. Leaning down till they were touching foreheads, their eyes met before Viktor wrapped his hand around Yūri’s erection and began to stroke. Overwhelmed, Yūri shut his eyes and grasped Viktor from the whorl of his hair. He heard a gasp as he slightly turned his face from Viktor, who then whispered into his ear before biting into the curve of his neck.

Tremors shook Yūri’s body and he could feel himself coming apart beneath Viktor, entirely at the latter’s mercy as seminal fluid spurt across his chest. 

“Viktor, Viktor…”

Viktor had jolted against him shortly before, a strangled moan ripping from his throat and sinking into Yūri’s skin as he bit down. Inadvertently, Yūri clenched up as the effects of their orgasms began to dribble down to his backside.

“Stay with me, stay…”

To his great relief Viktor then embraced him tightly, allowing him to feel his heartbeat once again.

“Ты все для меня.”1

 

If that had been a performance, it would have been the performance of his life.

He was not a virgin, but he had to admit it felt like something entirely new, making love like that. With his Yūri. He was left craving for more, as if his soul would never find peace till it was perfectly fused with _his_. The gold of his ring flickered in the corner of his eye, and he knew soon he would be on the same ice as Yūri again, both as a competitor and coach...and something more. Excitement suddenly took him, _still_ feeling new to the idea that this was his life now. He looked over next to him, at that perfect face, free of any anxiety or worry. The idea he could wake up to this, and hold the one he loved close, filled him with happiness he knew was not easy to find.

And yet he did, at age twenty-eight, during his latest figure skating season.

 

By the time he had fully awaken that morning he had draped himself around Viktor, as if the latter was his personal body pillow and not allowed to go anywhere. Despite morning usually being his least favorite part of the day, his mind was clearly telling him otherwise as he felt Viktor’s taut body against his.

Feeling him move, Viktor’s hand slid down till the hem of Yūri’s briefs, lips grazing the skin of the latter’s chest.

“I had a beautiful dream,” he said as he began to kiss Yūri’s chest.

“Are you sure it was a dream?” he tentatively replied, trying not get worked up.

“I’m checking now,” he told him right before giving his nipple a teasing lick.

“A-Are you hard?” Yūri let out, somehow managing not to yip in surprise.

“Very. Probably because I dreamed about eating katsudon.”

Picking up on the fond and yet teasing reference, Yūri sat up and, without saying a word, shifted Viktor so that he had his back to him. When he leaned down to whisper in the latter’s ear, he was not exactly sure about what he was doing, but he followed his instincts nonetheless.

Sliding his hand down to take Viktor’s erection, he felt Viktor immediately respond to his touch, his breath hitching as he pressed back into Yūri, who was already getting hard. Enthralled, he moved his right hand carefully, his fingers stroking every point he imagined would be most pleasurable. Flush against his back, the movements and sounds Viktor made as Yūri did so exhilarated him, and he propped himself onto his elbow so he could look over at Viktor, whose face was half-buried in the pillow.

Trailing kisses up Viktor’s arm he continued his administrations, desire quickly intensifying. Yūri could tell Viktor was trying not to thrust into his hand, so he hooked his leg over Viktor’s thigh, whispering to him to thrust as much as he wanted into his fist. Viktor moaned into the pillow, and Yūri almost could not believe how erotic giving him a handjob was. He knew giving Viktor love and attention felt just as good as getting it from him, and usually did his own grandiose gestures to demonstrate that, though it was mostly through skating. It felt incredible that something so simple could have Viktor writhing in his arms.

Viktor was clearly the type of man who was an attentive lower, the best Yūri could ever ask for, even, so he would not let himself be any less amazing in that aspect.

“Viktor...I want...if you do…”

“Condoms and lube...are in my wash bag if you need them.”

Giving one last kiss to Viktor’s arm Yūri quickly got up and made his way to bathroom, washing his hands, rinsing his face, and brushing his teeth a bit before opening Viktor’s toiletry bag. He guessed he would use the lubricated condom to prep Viktor with his fingers, using lube if needed, and then….

He could feel the blood rising to his face just thinking about it, and paced around the bathroom, trying to calm his nerves. Last night had been so good, and he did not want it to be followed up by a lackluster performance, as expected as it may be due to his lack of experience. Regretting how he had not thought this through, visuals of how Viktor was waiting for him in bed, fully aroused, suddenly flooded his head.

He could...no, he would make love to Viktor. Gathering his determination, he took off his shirt and his boxer briefs, and wrapped the items in small towel.

Hurrying back into the room, he saw Viktor setting a pillow behind his back before turning to give him a small smile.

“Come hold me.”

Yūri dropped the towel on the ottoman and nearly jumped on the bed to embrace Viktor, forgetting all his previous worries as his mouth crashed into his. As Yūri lowered himself Viktor hungrily rolled over him, repeating his name and kissing him so needily Yūri thought he would lose it. Kissing back fervently, he pushed Viktor onto his back again and reached to get the condom among the folds of the towel, straddling Viktor’s shins as he did so.

“I’ll...try to...use my fingers to loosen you up,” he breathed out quickly, “Please tell me if you want me to stop.”

“You could even take me raw, Yūri,” he laughed softly.

Embarrassed yet strangely emboldened, he crawled up between Viktor’s legs and slipped the condom over one finger. Sitting astride Viktor’s left thigh, he positioned his hand over the opening, slowly circling his finger there. Leaning down to be face to face with Viktor, he pushed the finger in as he began to slowly kiss him, the latter sighing into his mouth.

Having long fingers allowed him to feel around easily, and he soon pulled out to insert another finger, eliciting gasps from Viktor as he twisted and curved his fingers further down. Beginning to thrust in and out, their kisses got more heated, his mind filling with Viktor. Viktor laughing, Viktor skating, Viktor coaching, Viktor holding him. Before he realized Viktor was moaning and urging him to put it in, saying it was enough. He did not have much patience left either.

Pouring the lube into his hand, he hastily rubbed it over his erection, wincing due to how painfully hard he was.

“I don’t think I’m gonna last…”

“Do it quick and hard, and I won’t either…” he replied in a low voice.

“…”

Pushing his legs apart, Yūri hovered over him, pressing his face into Viktor’s neck. Entwining their fingers, Yūri pushed back against the mattress, locking eyes with Viktor, there, in the room dimly lit by the sunlight behind the curtain.

“I love you more than you can imagine,” he whispered quietly.

Releasing Viktor’s left hand, Yūri slowly dragged his hand down Viktor’s chest before resting it on his hip, caressing the curve of the bone with his thumb. Viktor cupped Yūri’s face, eyes boring into his.

“You can break all my records Yūri, but I will always love you so much more.”

As if those words had jolted him out of his reverie, he pushed in, overwhelmed by the tightness enveloping him inch by inch as he exhaled. When he reached the hilt his head dropped forward, the strands of his hair teasing Viktor’s chest.

Squeezing Viktor’s hand, he pulled out halfway as Viktor gently pushed the hair out of his face. Remembering what Viktor had said, his first tentative thrusts turned fast and hard at the first sign of hitting Viktor’s prostate, their pleasure-filled voices mixing together as they quickly approached the edge.

Leaning down until he was flush against Viktor, they moulded together like two halves of a whole, Yūri’s left hand now gripping Viktor's ash blond hair as supple fingers slid down his back, beads of sweat dripping down their bodies. Yūri felt Viktor’s arousal pressing against his stomach, smearing fluid across his skin as he moved.

At the brink of orgasm Viktor’s hands slipped to his backside, fingers sinking into the skin as Yūri thrusted in as deep as he could, panting into Viktor’s shoulder as his mind reeled in what felt like a dream.

Brushing his lips over Viktor’s open mouth they started kissing, their tongues moving and twisting around each other urgently before their kiss broke off into shallow pants, Yūri’s head tilting to the side as he kissed right below Viktor’s jaw, shaking as he felt Viktor’s pulse beneath his lips. Hearing Viktor cry his name, voice raspy with lust yet sweet like honey, adrenaline coursed through him, and everything but the pleasure Viktor brought him slipped away.

 

Still out of breath, he waited a few moments before slowly pulling out, his mind still flooding with the euphoria of having taken Viktor completely. And he wanted to do it again – ...albeit not right now: he still could not believe it had actually happened. 

The sight under him was like a dream; Viktor completely disheveled and covered in signs of lovemaking – pink and gleaming – all because of him. He brought his hands to Viktor’s face, tracing the tear troughs with the pads of his thumbs, wondering again what on Earth he did to deserve this happiness. Viktor’s cyan blue eyes looked at him hazily, and he could already see the smile in them before the other’s mouth formed one. He smiled back and flopped down beside him without turning away, swearing he would not cry like Viktor was, because only the latter could do it so beautifully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1 Ты все для меня = you are my everything


	8. Now I'm Ready

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first fanfiction that I complete for my beloved _YŪRI!!! on ICE_. As a story intended to be canon compliant it feels terribly awkward to me, so much that I just want to run back to writing AUs. It is simply easier to write content that is self-indulgent and not meticulously planned...such is being an amateur. It may have sounded a bit culturally loaded for the characters too, but please consider that anyone can get lost on _Wikipedia_ once in a while!
> 
> To end on a high note, [@suppuuri](https://twitter.com/suppuuri)'s beautiful artwork has been added to the first chapter.  
> Please do take a moment to check it out ₍₍ (̨̡ ‾᷄♡‾᷅ )̧̢ ₎₎

Yūri sat in the car listening to the radio while Viktor loaded his designer luggage into the back of the car, ready to leave for the airport. They had eaten breakfast outside and gone back to the hotel to get their things, a bit sad their vacation was over but looking forward to going home nevertheless. Once they were all set, Yūri handed Viktor the car keys and they were on their way.

They spent some time standing to wait at the check-in and then to get past security, but once they were finally at the gate they sat down, huddled close on the waiting chairs. Yūri was glad their flight had been scheduled in the afternoon, allowing them to enjoy their morning in bed together with no barriers other than their skin. Perhaps he had been a little impatient, but Viktor had been so soft and pliable to his touch...

Much of their ability to hold back anything seemed to have disintegrated, and soon they were talking about a lot more intimate things, from their deepest fears to their dreams growing up.

Viktor, despite how open he was, was still somewhat of an enigma to him. Though his life had mostly revolved around figure skating and advancing his career, there were other parts of him, and after shutting him down the first time in Hasetsu, Yūri told Viktor he could share more of his past if he wanted to, even if it touched upon his love life. At the time he had been not ready to hear about it, his own so incredibly lacking he could not even fathom having to compare them. He had been so out of touch with everything around him. When he looked at the posters in his room and surrendered to how he felt toward Victor, he did not have any word for it besides idolization – something that had nothing to do with the feelings between two people, or anything else Yūri could ever hope to experience with his poor social skills.

 _Eros_ , or what caused him to lose the ability to make “normal decisions,” entirely eluded him. He was finally able to move on from the idea that it was “katsudon” when he saw the costume from Viktor’s short program at the Junior World Championships in person. Hearing it suggested both genders at once struck him immediately, consolidating it as his costume of choice for his own short program, _Eros_. This was because there were two characters in the story he imagined, the woman seducing the man resonating with him more. He had been trying to convey what he saw in Viktor’s artistic genius, without realizing what experiences he had to draw from, what _feelings_ would help him deliver the program.

At first, it was seeing Viktor’s body at the onsen; Yūri realized he needed something else to nail the concept if he did not have the physical presence to do so, yet all he had come up with at that time was katsudon. Then, when he recalled seeing Viktor skate for the first time – which was what had set him on a clear path, inspiring him to continue skating – he thought of imagining himself as a woman seducing a man. With both ideas in mind, he hugged Viktor and asked him to watch his performance. Later, when it became obvious that he did not feel ashamed of stealing Viktor from the world, he entered the last stage and took on his own very persona, which was exactly what Viktor had wanted: Yūri reciprocated the latter’s touch by abruptly entwining their hands, demanding Viktor to not take his eyes off him.

[But he stole Viktor from the world just to realize he did not want to steal the world from Viktor.](https://web.archive.org/web/20170904045827/https:/twitter.com/Serya_chan/status/809597884190625793) He did not want Viktor to hold himself back nor for Viktor to be anyone but himself. And luckily, a kind of compromise had been met.

Suddenly Viktor had stopped talking, and Yūri knew his face must have been giving away a lot for Viktor to look at him like that – so radiant it was hard to look at him and not be blinded by his smile.

In the space of a week so much had happened. It felt like a testimony of just how far their relationship had come, and how much farther they could still go. As much as Yūri had felt Viktor’s love all those months leading to the Grand Prix Final, he was so eager to prove Viktor’s skating and how his life had changed because of it that he lost sight of where their relationship was heading. His career felt as destined to end as their professional relationship, which is why he did everything to ignore how it would affect him; he had already been so fortunate, and did not regret undertaking the challenge, regardless of what the results would be.

_**Ho paura di perderti.**_

He may have tried to ignore it, but the truth was that he could not bear being separated from Viktor if he so could help it.

The air between them was so light and joyful it often made him forget ever experiencing the knot of anxiety in his gut, or the persistent fear of losing everything he had strived for. Now it was certain that the strength and happiness Viktor gave him were things that would help him through whatever life threw at him, and that he too could have a lasting sense of fulfillment.

***

The World Championships were being held in Helsinki, which was not a long way from Saint Petersburg. They could even go by car. Their programs had been painstakingly gone over, but there was no predicting how he, a bundle of nerves and curious contradictions, would hold up, no matter how much his life had changed up until that point. He knew one thing, however: the more time he spent with Viktor, the more he felt at ease with such unpredictable outcomes. Viktor would always by his side, watching and guiding him whenever possible.

That morning it was Yūri watching the other man, who glided gracefully across the ice like only he could, copper rose eyes catching the tints of his cyan blue, a reminder that Yūri had nothing to ask from God anymore – Viktor would give Yūri his time, be it even forever.

The moment Viktor pointed out the _time_ of his decision to become Yūri’s coach, Yūri realized they were meant to skate on the same ice. By deciding that he wanted the final free skate of his career to be the same difficulty as Viktor’s he would prove the results of the latter’s coaching and how he never wanted their time together to end. With this resolution he ended up breaking Viktor’s world record for best free skate score. Yūri had spent more than half of his life trying to catch up to him, and now he was there, where Viktor was. That moment, coupled with Viktor announcing his return and Yuri Plisetsky’s skating, had motivated him to not retire.

It was where they belonged, together. Even after they left their love would remain, forever marked on the ice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
